Mr E and That One Dude
by style xx
Summary: COMPLETE Due to some great, unfathomable coincidence, Stan and Kyle are paired up on a longterm project – and find that you learn more about your best friend when he thinks you’re a total stranger. [StanKyle, KennyWendy]
1. An Unfathomable Coincidence

Here is style-xx attempting her first chaptered SP fic. After three one-shots of getting myself into the groove of writing non-fantasy high-school settings, I'm pretty excited for this sucker. It's been over a year since I even attempted chaptered stories...to be honest, I'm not sure if I can even do it anymore!

WARNING: THIS FIC IS LIABLE TO BE ULTRA-LAME AND IS NOT TO BE TAKEN (TOO) SERIOUSLY...at first, anyway. **If you don't like the beginning, just skip down until the narration is in third person. Just give it a try, PLEASE.**

Ah...I plan this to be generally happy and a "dreaming realism." So don't count on there being a lot of angst, lol. If you want a feel-good, plot-devicey, but not-cheesy romance, I expect that is what this will become.

(Incidentally, I have to mention the last story I wrote: Swallow Your Pride, LOL. It...it really amused me how about half the people who read it got the joke, and the other half didn't. Those who didn't get it: "So sad! Etc" Those who did get it: "HAHAHAHAHA" ...It was funny to see.)

Disclaimed.

Mr. E and That One Dude  
Due to some great unfathomable coincidence, Stan and Kyle are paired up on a long-term project – and find that you learn more about your best friend when he thinks you're a total stranger. StanKyle, KennyCartmanWendy

* * *

Prologue:

_Stan's heart had never hammered so hard in his LIFE._

_The sky was dark and grey and a gloomy foreshadowing of something **defiantly** bad. The rain poured down like the tears of heaven, splashing against his c-cold cheeks. He would have cried, but he didn't have the time. He had to run. RUN._

"_Oh my god oh my god," he sobbed out loud, feet pounding heavy against the ground like the pounding in his soul._

"_I can't believe I said those things to him?" Stan wailed pitifully, rain sploshing over his extremely attractive, lightly-muscled-from-playing-football chest. His full lips were blue and his perfect white teeth were chattering as the wind whipped speedily by._

"_Oh god. Dude, I'm – I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I was just scared! Scared to admit the feelings that I now realize are truly true!" _

_The hospital was quickly nearing him as he approached it. Crystalline, iridescent tears shone in his BEAUTIFUL ocean-sky-ice-blue aquamarine ORBS._

"_God, let him be okay. Let him be okay!" His breath hitched as he ran with determination for the destination where he would probably find his beloved. "I swear if he's alive...I'm going to tell him how I feel! I promise! I swear! Wah! So o- please, God –!"_

"_Don't let Kyle die!"_

* * *

**AH-HM.** Allow me to interject.

If this alleged prologue of mine is the manner of gibberish you expect to (or desire to) see and read from this point onward, let me give you some advice:

Go back to the absurd fantasy from whence you came! Shoo!

And for those of you still here with the rest of us, I will now properly begin this story.

**METhOD 01: An Unfathomable Coincidence**

**The Real Prologue  
**

* * *

"Coincidence is the word we use when we can't see the levers and pulleys." –Emma Bull

* * *

You've heard and read plenty of stories in your time, as have I. I've noticed that, for some reason, most good stories tend to have a beginning.

I don't know why that is, but ...unfortunately, I'm a follower, not a leader, so I'm going to be a boring conformist and give you one. A beginning, I mean.

Bear with me, and don't worry; once the beginning is through, I will certainly stop speaking in first person.

Once upon a time...

Kyle and Stan and Kenny and Eric were standing at the bus stop on a snowy Friday morning.

Oh...there should probably be some sort of backstory, too. Let me imagine something up...it won't take long...

These four boys and their friends are now in their 2nd year of high school. Stanley Marsh has managed to get some unimportant spot on their high school football team, and he has been dating Wendy T. for about a year now. Contrary to popular belief, Stanley has not been dating her off-and-on since they were eight. Stanley is not particularly smart but not awfully stupid, and he also partakes in the suspicious hobby of collecting Gundam models.

"Uh, I don't. I don't even know what a Gundam is. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me that."

Call you what?

"...You know. That."

What, I really don't know...what shouldn't I call you, Stanley?

"Hey, you! If you don't quit bugging Stan, I'll stop returning your mom's calls!"

Ahhh...point taken, Mr. Broflovski...though you should know, my mother doesn't watch South Park. In fact, she finds it quite vulgar.

"That's because it _is_, dumbass!"

Kyle Broflovski, as you can see, has grown into a young man just as...passionate as ever. He wears thin-rimmed glasses and has a nice-enough-looking face and figure. He plays no sports and is an avid reader and writer, and he just broke up with his girlfriend Bebe at the Homecoming Dance because she was rather boring. Though he has retained his self-righteous nature, he isn't really strict about his friends' attitudes. In general, his temper can only evoked by one person –

"Hey! Who the hell are you gahs talking to?!"

- Mr. Eric Cartman, himself.

Eric Cartman has not (again; contrary to PB) become a worse sociopath or sadist over the years, and he doesn't weigh noticeably more than an average boy anymore – he is by no means skinny or fit, but not big enough to be remotely attributed to the name 'fatass.' He's still got that cruel tongue and asshole attitude, but this is mainly due to a fundamentally human desire to feel loved and it is not quite a sincere hatred. What? It's true. Somewhere around 7th or 8th grade, he discovered an easier way to tap the pleasure center than attempting to hate everyone, and whatnot – it does remain, however, that Eric Cartman does not function too well with other people. It seems he's still just 'put up with' in this gang of four, and always a challenge.

Cartman also has enjoyed writing for the past two years, and we have found that he is surprisingly good at it. What, exactly, he writes, however, will not be disclosed at this time. You'll most likely find out soon.

And lastly –

"Mgghmmhhmmm."

Lastly but not least-ly, we have Kenneth McCormick, whose words and insights are still as Mgghmmm-ysterious as ever. ...Actually, I just realized that would make this story hard to write – hold on –

"Ahh! Thanks, I kinda like being able to breathe."

Somewhere along the way, little Kenny (who incidentally has the biggest of the four boys' endowments) grew out of his suffocating orange parka. He was very obscene as a child, but he's now the mellow 'straight man' of the group. Girls find him to be very handsome and he is the most generally loved-by-strangers guy between them. He's not really sure why – perhaps he's just very handsome – because – CONTRARY TO INCOMPREHENSIBLY POPULAR BELIEF – Kenny has never had sex!

"Seriously? Most people -"

Quiet, now – for I care not about the actions of these Most People. Just let me do you this favor, Kenny – trust me, girls like a gentleman better.

"Alright, that's cool, then."

"Whoa. That means even I've had more experience than poe' boy."

"...Dude..."

"H...haaha..."

"...I think Cartman just dissed himself."

"SHUT UP, YOU GAHS!"

"Dude, no...that's hilarious..."

"YOU'RE ALL FAGS!"

The boys are now quite capable of advancing their own story without my assistance – and so this is where I must leave you, my readers and friends. Good luck, and don't forget to send me a postcard. A ...review, perhaps.

**--This is where the alleged REAL story begins--**

"TGIF," Stan sighed as he throttled his locker in frustration. SPHS was rather infamous for the unfortunate state of its school resources. On an almost-daily basis, Stan and a certain number of other students found themselves needing to wrestle the ugly-green metal contraptions open, even after inputting the combination.

Kyle leaned against the lockers next to his best friend, sighing impatiently as Stan's face turned a little red from his valiant locker-wrenching efforts.

"Don't start with that yet," the redhead grumbled, banging the back of his head against the lockers repeatedly. The noise was atrocious, but he didn't care. "At least wait until lunch. We haven't even gotten through first hour yet."

At this time, Stan's locker flew open and smacked him in the forehead.

"Awww," the dark-haired boy protested, adjusting his kiddish red-and-blue hat back to its original position on his aching head. "Jesus, this locker hates me..." He began taking out his books.

Kyle watched the taller boy with a wry smile. "Force is never a good tactic," he joked.

Stan, slamming his locker shut and rubbing his sore head, sent a one-eyed glare in Kyle's direction. "So I should just...what? Negotiate with it?"

Kyle stood straight again and started them walking. "You should at least try. Diplomacy is underrated."

Stan muttered something and turned the quick corner to his US History classroom, not bothering to say 'bye' as Kyle continued on to Creative Writing.

But Kyle was still smiling, even as the bell rang and he barely made it in time.

"I think you can make a lot more progress by talking to people instead of forcing and guessing," he thought aloud. He looked at his Creative Writing teacher and smiled slightly. "Yeah?"

Mr. Jones looked up distractedly, paused, and answered: "Sit down, Broflovski. Anyone not in his seat by the bell is tardy, and I don't privilege tardy students with my time."

From his seat near the back of the class, Cartman could be heard snickering.

--

Mrs. Cox wasn't in her room by the sound of the first bell, so Stan set his things down and went to sit in the empty desk by his girlfriend.

"Hey," he greeted her with a calm, bored smile.

She spun in her seat, having been talking to some other girl. "Stan! Hey, honey. How are you?"

"Normal," he answered honestly. His eyes kept darting back to the door, careful of their teacher's possible arrival.

She smiled. Sometimes, it was a treat to be able to show off her lovely relationship in front of all her peers. Everyone knew about her and Stan already; they'd all heard about the SUPER relationship way more times than anyone could possibly care to know, but she felt the need to emphasize it at every opportunity nonetheless.

"Gimme kiss?" She murmured just-loud-enough.

He leaned over and pecked her forehead.

"Naw..." She scrunched her face up in a coy, sweet grimace. She lifted her chin and puckered her lips out somewhat, tapping them with her index finger. "Here."

Stan laughed. "Wendy, you're crazy." Still, he stood and pressed a sound, quick kiss to her full lips. He licked the corner of his mouth when they separated. Strawberry.

"Alright, guys! Sit down, sit down!" Mrs. Cox waved her arm impatiently as she came into the room, and Stan stood, nodding 'bye' to his girlfriend as he navigated the brief chaos of the students relocating to their assigned seats.

"Quiet. Quiet down! Quiet."

Eventually, the students complied. Mrs. Cox ran a hand through her well-styled hair and shot quick glances around the room, eyeing sleepy faces.

"...I believe I explained our project to you all yesterday..."

Stan blinked tiredly. Honestly, school didn't need to start this early. Did it? Because frankly, he could never remember a thing that happened during his first one or two classes. It was like hanging in painful limbo – he wasn't allowed to sleep, but that didn't mean his mind was awake by any means.

"Well," Mrs. Cox smiled in dry amusement at the blank looks her students offered. "I'm guessing that I'll have to explain it again."

After receiving no real response, she continued.

"For those of you who do not remember, we are starting a project that deals more directly with Social Studies than US History. When we go down to the Media Center today, you'll be assigned special accounts with which you will send e-mails to an assigned, anonymous partner from another of my class periods."

At this, there was no excitement whatsoever amongst the audience.

Cox cleared her throat. "This is what you'll be doing instead of daily journals for the second semester. Be creative, and try to stay on-topic. Well, let's go, then - Single-file line, please – quietly; let's not bother the other classes. Go on!"

As he shuffled tiredly out the door, amongst the other students, he felt who he only could assume was Wendy brushing up against his back and linking hands with him. He didn't really care one way or another; there had been a time when he'd gladly display his affection as a sort of public declaration that she was taken, but now that they'd been going out for a year, it was more like...

_Sure, whatever you say, dear._

He smiled to himself. It was pretty normal, right?

Once they were in the Media Center and each student situated on one of the lame old computers, Mrs. Cox distributed small slips of paper.

"You're the first hour, so you won't have received a message from your partner yet. Go to..."

They followed her directions onto the project page, logged themselves in, and all that.

"Now, you should all see your account name in the top left corner…the box at the bottom of the screen is where you'll type your 'journal' entries. Send button is just below..."

Stan rolled his eyes to himself, huffing in amusement as he went way ahead of the teacher's instructions. They really didn't need her guidance for something like this. They were in 10th grade, after all.

"Alright," Mrs. Cox finally seemed content with her instructions. "Those of you who haven't begun, go ahead and do that now. You have fifteen minutes before we return to the classroom. Remember to stay on topic!"

Wendy chuckled at Stan's side, smiling brightly and leaning a little closer to him.

"You look focused," she purred. "I didn't know you're that into history. It's kind of...cute."

Stan merely shrugged, a faint smirk stretching his thin lips before he surrendered to a heavy yawn. Rubbing his eyelids with a thumb and index finger, he started to type.

Wendy sighed and returned her eyes to her own screen. Sometimes it was just too hard to get his attention. Oh well – he was probably just tired.

--

Kyle, on the other hand, did remember what the project Mrs. Cox had announced was. He nodded acknowledgement of his best friend as they hurriedly passed each other in the hallway, smiling pleasantly at Wendy when he saw she was still in the history room.

"Wendy," he greeted. "Not walking Stan today?"

Wendy shrugged with one shoulder. "He's kind of in a bad mood," she said softly, a nonchalant lift of her finely-shaped eyebrows accompanying her tender smile.

Kyle flicked his wrist dismissively, setting his bag down on the floor beside his usual seat. He pulled himself up onto the desk and casually leaned over.

"He'll get over himself. I think he got into a little fight with his locker this morning." He laughed to himself, and Wendy did, as well (albeit with a slightly perplexed glint in her eyes. Stan had been fighting with his locker?)

"Ah, well...in that case..." she smirked, trying to cut the conversation short. She liked Kyle well enough (and was kind of proud of him for showing that dumb bitch Bebe what's what) but she really needed to leave. Her next class was rather far from this end of the school.

Kyle blinked at her, signaling he had nothing else to say and she was free to go.

"Bye," she said.

"Later."

Two minutes later, the bell rang, and Mrs. Cox seemed to only just realize she had another class to teach. Her head jerked up in half-surprise and she stared dazedly out into the sea of desks before clearing her throat.

The procedure of the previous class period was repeated. Blah, blah, blah.

Kyle really didn't need to hear it, especially after an entire class period of Cartman giggling and snickering like a total asshole in the seat behind him. It had been awfully difficult to get any creative writing done with that goddamn noise going on last hour. At least they didn't have _this _class together.

Upon logging into the project base, Kyle saw that he had received a message from "15862."

_hey whoever_

_I dont really care about the topic. i mean we learn about history in class enough. so hey. whats up?_

Kyle's eyebrows rose, and he sighed heavily, shaking his head. So he'd been paired with some lazy bum. That was alright; he could deal with it. He wasn't a particularly scholastically-minded guy, himself; he did his work and always did it well, but that was just because he was bright. He really couldn't care less about the actual subject matter.

With a tricky smirk and a quick, sideways glance to be sure Cox wasn't approaching, Kyle typed his reply.

--

"It's a week from Saturday."

Rubbing his temples in an obvious attempt to let people know his head was not in the condition to take in any information, Stan mumbled:

"Yeh...so?"

Kenny's mouth quirked to the side, his blue eyes bright with either annoyance or amusement. He lifted his grape-jelly sandwich to his lips and licked up the bit of jelly leaking out of the other side. He reminded Stan of a little kid.

"Well –" lick, smack; " – are you g'na come or what? It'll –" lick, smack; " – be a lot of fun."

Stan was about to answer when he was surprised by a heavy knock to his back.

"Huh?" He spun quickly, a formidable expression etched into his usually-pleasant features. "Kyle? What the hell?"

Laughing lightly, Kyle slid into the seat next to his best friend and noticed Kenny licking and smacking about his sandwich. He sent the blonde a strange look before grinning at Stan.

"Hehe," he laughed, shrugging it off. Stan looked murderous, but he had always been more fun than scary when he was in his 'mood.' At least, that was Kyle's view on it. Maybe Stan could intimidate some people with that pouty sulk, but not Kyle.

"Ah...isn't Cartman in this lunch?" Kyle asked, glancing around curiously.

Stan pursed his lip and Kenny swallowed the last of his goddamn jelly sandwich just in time to answer.

"Nah, don't think so. I think if you take choir you automatically get third lunch."

Kyle huffed. Yeah, that was right – Cartman had been a devout chorister for a few years now, getting into state choirs and honors choirs and ensemble performances by solo audition and a whole bunch of other junk. They'd all had lunch together during first semester, but now Kenny, Kyle, and Stan had the first lunch period while Cartman was stuck in third. Cartman was going to have to find some new friends.

"Wendy has third lunch now, too," Stan said, sounding more like he was trying to make conversation than actually complaining about the absence of his lady. He picked up the cherry slushie he'd bought from the school vendors and lifted the straw to his mouth.

"Sucks to be you," Kyle smiled sincerely, reaching out and grabbing the cup before Stan could drink from it. Ignoring the dark-haired boy's unappreciative glare, he took a long sip through the straw.

Once Kyle was done, Stan grabbed his drink right back and looked at the straw unhappily.

"Dude, thanks a lot," he grumbled. Kyle had this weird habit of biting down hard on straws when drinking through them. Now the end of Stan's straw was flat and had teeth marks on it.

After a moment of deliberation, Stan decided he didn't want to get up and get another straw, so he sort-of fixed the shape of the current one and proceeded to drink from it.

"Ewww," Kyle teased. "I slobbered all over that, dude." He made a funny gesture with his tongue.

Stan merely closed one eye at his friend in a 'fuck off I don't care' sort of look.

Kenny was giggling to himself. "You guys..."

"Anyway, what were you talking about?" Kyle changed the subject.

"Hm?" The blonde boy across from them stopped giggling. "My party, man. I'm having a party a week from Saturday!"

"That's a long time notice for a party," Kyle remarked. He glanced at Stan, whose shoulders were hunched forward as he sulkily sipped his slushie and pretended to not be listening. Kyle smiled distractedly at Stan. Seriously, those moods of his were so ...fun.

Kenny frowned. "Come on, I've never planned a party before, so nobody knows that I'm a big party man. By getting a head-start on letting people know, there's bound to be huge turnout."

"Uh-huh," Kyle muttered flatly, reaching out to playfully shove Stan's head and steal his drink again. Kyle finished it off and twisted around to toss it in the garbage, and Stan just sighed, pulling out a binder and opening it to a saved page.

"..." Kenny made a little face. Sometimes he wished he could have either Stan or Kyle to himself for even five minutes, but those two were always together, whether Kenny was there or not.

Kenny was shy with girls, but he was definitely interested. He probably had the greatest amount of perverted thoughts during any given class period and probably had experienced more fantasies than the four of them combined. He was sexual and creative. He just hadn't ever actually had sex before.

For god's sake, he hadn't even kissed anyone before!

It was pathetic for a tenth grader to never have been kissed (in his opinion) and, though he wouldn't often admit it aloud, he did kind of admire both Stan's and Kyle's cool and collected way about girls. They'd both kissed plenty of girls in their time, and it would help Kenny to get some of their advice –

- that was, if he could ever get five fucking minutes alone with either of them!!!

"Anyway," he interrupted Stan and Kyle's positively endearing cuchi-cuchi super best-friends moment (blech) with an irritated shake of his hand. "It'll be at Cartman's pad. Come prepared for a seriously good time."

Neither Stan nor Kyle was surprised to hear this, as Kenny practically lived at Cartman's house. Mrs. Cartman thought Kenny was adorable and a good influence on her son, and Kenny's real home was not a nice place to be.

"I'm always prepared for a good time," Kyle said. Slowly, he added: "...But...you wouldn't happen to be throwing this party just to get lucky, would you?"

Kenny scowled, his color going high. "No way! I just like parties!"

Stan laughed for the first time that day. Kyle was strangely elated. "Kenny...that's hilarious. If you really want to hook up with someone, ask her out. It's not hard."

"Yeah, yeah." Easy for you to say, Kenny thought. "Anyway, I meant it. It's not about hooking up. It's about the party!"

Kyle shrugged. "There had better not be any alcohol."

"Ha..." Kenny shrugged back at the redhead. "No problem, dude. Mrs. C is real strict about that shit, anyway."

"...A party with a chaperone?" The three boys looked up to see the ever-pleasant Craig looming over them. The blue-hatted boy sneered. "Might as well call it off right now."

"Nobody asked you," was Stan's sharp reply. "Go fuck yourself.."

Craig shrugged and strode away to join his own group of friends.

Kenny was silent for a moment, then he spoke:

"I was gunna tell him that Mrs. C is going to leave and let us have the house that night...but thanks anyway."

Stan grunted. This just added to the feeling he'd had all day of being completely useless.

Kyle pushed his slim, trendy glasses back up to their intended place on his nose, glancing at his friend solemnly. After a short lag, he put his hand on Stan's back. Stan jerked a bit, but didn't speak or lift his head from his folded arms.

"Something wrong, baby?" Kyle joked crudely. "Need me to kiss it better?"

"Jesus Christ," Stan shook Kyle's hand away and lifted his head. "You're so annoying today."

"You're so annoyed today," Kyle countered happily. "Too bad Wendy isn't here too fix you up."

"...Sorry," Stan sighed. "I'm just really tired."

"He's just tired," Kenny echoed, as if doing this would convince Kyle of the fact.

Kyle and Stan both sent Kenny a short look. Poor kid really wanted in on the conversation. They (Kyle more than Stan) were pretty aware of how easily they could isolate Kenny with their best-friendishness, but they couldn't help it; it was a natural sort of chemistry. They liked Kenny a lot, but they couldn't just magically inject him into the formula.

"Kyyyyle!"

And so came yet another visitor.

Kyle turned and smiled at the girl leaning against the table. "Hey, Red."

She smirked and stuck her tongue out cutely.

Stan and Kenny stared at her; Kenny, with interest, and Stan, with annoyance. She had been in South Park during elementary school, moved away for a time, and returned at the beginning of their 10th grade year. She'd never been too interesting a kid, and had always been referred to as nothing more than "The Little Red-Haired Girl."

In keeping with that "good" memory, she had returned as a 16-year old still refusing to tell anyone her real name. As a result, she called herself Red.

And – she was seriously into Kyle, acting under the pretense that she was just excited to talk to someone she used to know. How do we know it's just a pretense? I don't know, maybe because that sort of thing tends to fit well into fics like this.

"It's so cool to have lunch together now," she said, tossing her bright red hair over her shoulder as she helped herself to the empty seat across from Kyle. That was where Cartman would be sitting, had he had this lunch period.

"Sweet," Kyle agreed, nodding his head. Stan rolled his eyes, hoping Kyle wasn't actually going to go for this girl. He knew his best friend; he had better relationship conquests to make. Smarter ones. Ones that were more _worthwhile. _He didn't want some silly girl joining their group of friends just because she could be ickle and cute for Kyle. Why, that violated all principles of tightly-knit childhood posses! Wendy was okay, because she'd always been there...

But Red was totally and undoubtedly an infidel. Nothing less, and definitely nothing _more._

"Hey," Kenny greeted her with a shy smile. "You look healthy."

Stan snorted into his arms, muffling a laugh. Kyle merely raised an eyebrow.

"...Yeah, Kenny's right," he said, trying to relieve Kenny of some of his total lame. "You do look very, um...healthy."

Red giggled. "Yeah, whatever. You too, Kyle; thanks."

Stan frowned. Excuse him, but the comment had totally come from Kenny, not Kyle. She was so annoying like that!

"Cool, cool," Kyle replied lightly.

There was a long period of silence; one in which there was no noise ...as constituted by the definition of "silent." In fact, it may have been an awkward one, too.

"So..." Red started, and, without warning, reached out and snatched Kyle's green cap.

She started laughing loudly and he grimaced, ducking his head down. He'd never cared for his hair, but since he'd hit puberty, the texture had sort of changed (actually, this does happen to people) and was now a mere mellow mass of semi-uncontrollable curls. At least it didn't stick up anymore... as long as he gelled it down after showers.

"Cmon, give it back," he demanded. He stood and leaned over the table to grab it back, but Red, laughing the entire time (probably a little too much to be natural laughter,) kept leaning away.

Kyle quickly gave up and sat back down, resting his elbows on the table and running a hand uncomfortably through his hair. He stuck his bottom lip out to the side and said nothing more as she continued to tease him.

Kenny had been watching Red with a look of pure adoration (haha) and Stan had been (still was) staring at Kyle.

For some reason, his best friend looked a little different. Had he gone through some crucial change that Stan hadn't been informed of? His hair was a little less red than it had been when they were kids, more of a nifty rust-colour now, but he already knew that. Maybe it was his clothes? Everyone knew that Kyle had been dressing a little more stylishly as they'd gotten older, but...

Stan gave up and returned his pretend attention to whatever it was he'd been pretending to be doing before.

It just kind of pissed him off that Red could defeat Kyle so easily where Stan never seemed to have a chance. If HE'D stolen Kyle's hat, Kyle probably would have kicked him off his seat with a triumphant laugh and just taken it back.

Whatever his retaliation, it definitely wouldn't have been to just sit down with that...that _look_ on his face!

Or maybe Stan was just being a pussy.

Goddammit! Where was Wendy when he needed her?

--

Incidentally, Wendy had just left an indiscriminate classroom and was walking to the lunchroom when she came across one very noisy Eric Cartman in the hall.

"...Eric?" She wondered to herself, and walked up by his side, glancing at him discretely. "Were you singing?"

"Duh," he answered her with a little smirk. "I am a _concert choir_ man."

She smiled confusedly. "Wow...I'm sorry, I kinda never knew. Well," she laughed, as if to excuse herself of this, "you never told me, so..."

He only shrugged. "Not mah fault I'm not into airheads."

"Eric..."

"Look, girl," and he stopped, looking her up and down, "I'm not gonna whine at you about it or nothing, but I'm not lookin' to make a friend. If you have something to say, spit it the hell out 'cause I don't have all the damn time in the world."

She raised fine, dark eyebrows and looked away awkwardly. Eric really was awfully good at making people feel awkward – it was like he could make people believe they were insincere _because_ they were talking to him.

"Sorry, I have to go," she said, turning the nearest corner she could find and deserting him.

He sighed and shook his head, humming his latest catchy choir tune to himself as he went along.

"Cartman," Kyle greeted coolly as he and Stan came up the stairs and went in the opposite direction.

"Fags," Cartman greeted back with a polite nod of his head.

Kenny came up the stairs soon afterward and followed him instead of Stan and Kyle. Cartman smirked. They had probably been too fagtastical with each other for Kenny's tastes.

"Hey," Cartman said.

Kenny only smiled and kept his eyes on the hallway ahead of them. He looked pleased.

-end ch1-

* * *

Okay..chapter one, complete. I believe there will be only eight chapters to this fic, unless the Ken/Cart/Wendy thing somehow stretches it out. Also, to clear things up: this isn't going to be a KennyCartmanWendy threesome; it'll be a KCW love triangle. As in somebody's gonna end up without the other two. 

Mainly SK though. Keep it real!

-stylexx

(Incidentally, one major pet peeve of mine is the tendency of some fanfic-writers to use 'defiantly' in place of 'definitely.')


	2. The Elusive Mr E

First thing: WHAT. THE. DICKENS. XD I was so pleased by the entirely unanticipated response to my first chapter that I got all psyched, started to flesh out the plot for chapter 2, and consequently heard not one of my teachers' words all day long.

I'd do it all over again if I could. XD

I won't respond to all reviews, but to some, I absolutely must.

Ren85: I was afraid that the prologues would be a little jarring. I'm sorry to have put you through that, but thank you for your comments and I promise I won't do it again.

Fletset: Kenny's usually portrayed as the "forgotten" one in the actual show, so why not here, right? Thanks.

LilChicky004: HAHAHA. I'm really so tickled that someone actually finds me clever! Much love, and please come back soon! (salutes)

IndianaBeachBum: ...JEEZ. You just love making me feel all awkwardly special and happy like I'll never deserve. I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate all the reviews you've left me in the past. I'm having fun reading them – being the broody intellectual who almost never smiles, I got a very interesting response as I walked around all day wearing a shit-eating grin. It totally means so much to me that you'd comment on all that specific stuff, so thanks. (heart)

Angels-Obsession: Baby, you know I care. Be the sexy lady who sits on my grand piano in a slinky red dress as I send musical vibrations all up and down your body with my passionate playing. Oohh. (punch)

* * *

**METhOD 02: The Elusive Mr. E**

"The final mystery is oneself." –Oscar Wilde

* * *

Still a little flustered by her encounter with Cartman, Wendy stared at her locker with no detectable expression on her face.

She was Wendy. Wendy Testaburger. She wasn't arrogant, but she was good-looking and she was amazing company. Any guy would be thrilled to talk to her - especially a guy so rude and self-centered that not even the ugly girls really wanted to talk to him; someone as totally dislikable as Eric Cartman.

So why was Cartman so...?

"...Wendy?"

"Mmm?!" Her skin jumped slightly and she turned to the source of the voice. She pursed her lips and frowned slightly. "Oh, um...hi?"

Red smiled demurely and shrugged, leaning her weight to the side. "Hey."

"Sorry," Wendy laughed shortly, "uh, can I help you?"

"Jeez," Red sighed, feigning a hurt pout. "I must be a total drag."

"No...you've just never talked to me before. That's all."

Red only shrugged, laughter in her near-black eyes. "Actually, I do wanna ask you something."

Looking half-surprised and wondering what she could possibly help the red-haired girl with, she nodded. "Well, sure; go ahead."

"Umm..." Red hesitated, chewing her lip gently. "You're going out with Stan Marsh, right?"

Wendy's handsome blue eyes narrowed warily. Was Stan being messed with by this girl Wendy had never even talked to?

"Yeah...why?"

Red laughed and nervously banged her fists against the sides of her legs. "Then...would you know if, um...is his friend Kyle dating anyone right now?"

Wendy's defensive half-glare vanished as quickly as it had come. So this was about Kyle? She was rather relieved to hear it.

"Ahh...are you thinking of asking him out?"

"What else would it be?" Red said harshly. She immediately seemed to regret her tone. "Um, sorry. Yeah. I'm thinking of asking him out, or at least I wanna know he's not going out with anyone in case I want to try anything..."

Wendy lifted an eyebrow. "You're awfully forward." A part of her assumed this was only talk, though, and that Red wouldn't actually 'try anything' with Kyle before asking him out.

"Well, whatever. So is he dating someone?" Red looked impatient, and Wendy suddenly realized that she probably had to go to class. Wendy had lunch next, but Red's was already through.

"Not that I know of," Wendy answered with a kind smile. That, however, turned into a frown when she heard the bell ring for the start of third lunch and first-lunch students' fourth period and saw that Red was making no effort to leave.

In fact, she was just making herself comfortable.

"So..." the redhead smiled slyly. "Do you think he might be into me?"

"Into you?" Wendy echoed in surprise. She had no idea. She hardly ever talked to Kyle, and she didn't even know Red that well. How was she supposed to know the nature of their interaction? "Yeah, I think he might be. I mean, why not?"

And still, Wendy didn't like to be the one to burst anyone's bubble.

Red giggled. "Well, I hope you're right. I'm totally going to go for him. If it all works out, we may be seeing a lot more of each other! Anyway, I'm late, so I'm gonna go."

"...Bye," Wendy said quietly, and Red jogged off, blindingly red hair flailing behind her pretty frame.

--

"Oh...hey, guys," Kenny said, an expression of interest on his skinny face as he approached his two friends. "I didn't know you have this Bio class."

Kyle looked up from his casual conversation with Stan and smiled nonchalantly. "Oh, hey, Ken. Yeah, we both got switched in. Pretty sweet, huh?"

"Yep," Kenny answered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "So...how –"

"Okay, dude! Seriously!" Stan's voice barked over him, "I'm not being the girl half!"

Kyle shook his head, determined. "No way I'm going to do it, dude."

"Suck it up, Broflovski," Stan replied, leaning back in his seat. "Cause I'm sure as hell not gonna. My genes are all man."

Kyle opened his mouth to make a reply, but Kenny didn't stick around long enough to hear it. With an annoyed sigh, he made his way to his seat on the other side of the room.

"Aw, sweetie." As you would have it, his seat was next to Bebe's. "You look kind of down. Something wrong?"

Kenny sent Bebe a nervous glance before returning his eyes to his folded hands on the black science desk before him. She looked very pretty.

"Nah."

She leaned back in her seat. "Is it Kyle and Stan? They've been arguing about the stupid lab for like five minutes. Serves them right for having to be the gay couple."

Kenny stared at her in wonder. She seemed bitter, her lovely features all screwed up like that. Kenny figured she was still angry about being dumped for no reason and was taking it out on Kyle and his lab partner.

She noticed him staring and gave him a sharp glance. Embarrassed, he turned his head back and kept his eyes straight ahead. In the background, amongst the noise of other students actually making progress on their lab work, Kenny listened to Stan and Kyle's manly banter.

"Cmon. You're such a dumbass," Kyle whined when Stan claimed the 'man' half of the gene traits worksheet and started to work on it without permission. "I don't wanna be the girl."

"Too bad," Stan muttered, bent over in heated concentration as he scribbled down the details about his physical traits and made some simple calculations.

"Stan!" Kyle demanded, trying to grab the sheet. Stan shuffled to the side, entirely out of Kyle's reach, and the redhead groaned in a loud expression of exasperation. "Now who's being annoying?!"

"Shh, let me concentrate," Stan hissed. "I'm working hard to pay the bills and buy you tampons. Somebody has to."

"..." Kyle punched Stan's shoulder and glared at the girl-half of the lab work. "I am not doing the girl-half. I'm not."

"Then just switch it for another guy half, fag," someone snickered from behind them. Neither boy paid the obnoxious comment any heed.

After a long wait, Kyle sighed loudly and started to put his traits into the girl-half of the sheet, and Stan scooted closer so they could compare sheets and create their hybrid-child on the third one.

It would definitely be one crazy kid.

"...Ugh." Bebe sighed loudly for what had to be the fifteenth time since class started. She was eyeing Stan and Kyle from her brooding spot in the room, and Kenny, however pleased to be working with such a pretty girl as he was, was starting to regret getting involved with someone who was so obviously not going to bother with anything but glaring at her ex-boyfriend. "Ugh. Ugh."

Kenny nearly shouted at her, but he restrained himself.

"...Are we gonna, like, do this?" He asked her.

"What? Yeah, uh huh." She looked down and started to work on her trait sheet, the dark scowl never leaving her face as she did. Occasionally, she would glance up and look at Kyle and Stan, but she did actually manage to get her work done well.

"...Our kid should end up with blonde hair," Kenny said happily. They actually hadn't done this assignment correctly, but we don't have to tell them that. Let's not ruin the moment.

Bebe sighed, again, and seemed to notice for the first time that she was being rather rude to her poor lab partner.

"Sorry, Kenny," she apologized sincerely. "I just can't figure out why Kyle would dump me like that. I know I need to get over it, but I...it just doesn't make sense! I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

"Maybe he had his eyes on someone else," Kenny muttered thoughtlessly as he finished up the third worksheet. Bebe gave him a nasty look.

"Who else is there? If you know anything, I want to know."

Kenny chuckled. If he had to guess, he'd say Stan, but he also knew that making a joke like this wouldn't be taken lightly. All that would do was disgust Bebe and start unfortunate rumors. For some random kids to say it was one thing, but for Stan and Kyle's closest friend (who wasn't Stan or Kyle) to say they were gay, then there would be major complications.

"Nah, I was just throwing stuff out there. I guess he probably just had too much going on in his life. I don't think he really wanted to hurt you or anything."

"...Kenny, I never knew you're so sweet."

Stopping his work, Kenny looked up, amused. "I'm not. You're just imagining things."

She giggled.

"Hey," Kenny's eyes brightened. "I just remembered. You don't have any plans for next Saturday, do you?"

On the other side of the room, Stan's glee at winning the male half of their parent generation was quickly fading as he realized just what sort of image Kyle was shaping their hybrid child in.

"Dude! No way is our kid having curly hair!"

And so on.

--

At SPHS, there were only six class periods to a day, but there was an additional seventh tacked on to the end. School was technically over after the seventh, though seventh period was more of an all-week club: they were elective, non-graded and non-credit congregations of similar-minded people, for lack of a better term. This was also when athletes had sports practices.

Stan and Kyle had sixth-hour Individual Wellness (PE) together, and Stan had remained for 7th-hour football while Kyle had bid him farewell in favor of 7th-hour General Arts. Football was a strenuous, testosterone-laden wasteland. General Arts was, by far, a class period about absolutely nothing. It tended to be more of a social hour of arsty people.

"Hey! Kyle." Wendy came up to the redhead, who had been working on his locker, in no rush to go anywhere. The great thing about 7th-hour was that you could also go as many as 15 minutes late to it.

Kyle had always suspected that it was merely an authoritative plot to keep kids busy a bit longer into the afternoon, cutting short the time they had in between the time school let out and the time their parents got home. It probably did make it easier to apprehend drug dealers and smokers. Not that he would know.

"Heya," Kyle answered. He glanced at her offhandedly before returning his attention to his locker. "Sorry, you know Stan has Football now. You probably won't catch him around my locker anymore."

Her smile fell a bit, but she didn't leave. "Oh, that's right. Are you going to the game tonight?"

"Nah, probably not." He shut his locker, and, before she could protest his answer, turned to her: "What do you have?"

"...Arts," she said.

He grinned. "Oh, me too. I have 7th period with the gorgeous Wendy Testaaa!" He sang jokingly. "Stan better watch his back, huh? The game is on now."

Wendy grinned back and delicately removed his arm from its playful position around her shoulders.

"As if, Kyle!"

When they reached the GenArts room, most of the kids weren't there yet. Most usually toughed it out to the last of their optional 15 minutes before getting there. It wasn't as if they ever had any sort of assignments. It was really more like a club.

Just as Kyle was setting his stuff down and pulling out his clipboard, he felt a huge weight on his back, and he yelped, dropping his stuff and slamming his hands onto the table in front of him.

"Yaah!" He heaved, turned a bit, and caught a glimpse of bright red hair. "...Red?"

"Got ya," she said, dropping off of Kyle's back. Kyle was awfully tall.

"Jeez! Scared me," he grumbled. Honestly, what self-respecting teenage girl went around jumping on guys' backs? Sure, he liked Red, but she was a little overbearing sometimes. A lot of the time.

"Sorry. I just get really excited," she said, as if this were any excuse. She reached up to try and steal his green hat again, but he was wiser now, and backed away, hand protectively over his hat.

"No way, dude," he laughed. "You're not getting it."

"Fine," she huffed, and then seemed to consider. "To make up for it, tell me if you're going to the football game tonight, and if the answer is no, then change it."

He blinked tiredly. "Wha-huh-wha?"

"...Come to the football game if you weren't planning to already."

He shot her a mildly incredulous look. "What? Why would I?"

She seemed equally surprised. "Are you kidding? You seriously don't go to our games? Where's your school spirit?"

Kyle shrugged and seated himself, getting busy with his own work. He could tell the girl was only trying to be cute, but her noisy attitude was really maddening. He kind of understood why Stan didn't like her.

"...Sorry, did I hit a nerve?" She took the seat beside him, tone much softer than before.

"Nope," he said, not really upset. "I just don't have any reason to go."

Wendy walked over, having been watching the strangely lacking-in-chemistry interaction from her seat across the large art table.

"I think Stan would like you to go, Kyle," she said, slow and careful with her words as she tried to help Red get a chance with the boy. He looked at Wendy, astounded.

"Uh, Wendy, I think he really wouldn't care either way." His tone was incredulous, but for some reason, he kind of liked the idea of Stan wanting him to be there. It was a nice reassurance that Wendy still hadn't torn apart their childhood bond. "He probably wants you there more than me."

She smirked at him slightly, and Red looked a little upset from having no way to join in the conversation.

"If you say so. But why don't you come, anyway?"

Kyle wondered why everyone was being so persistent. Honestly, it didn't matter to him, but since they both seemed to want him to...

"Alright," he shrugged, returning to his work. "I guess I will, then."

"Awesome sauce!" Red cried, jumping up and hugging him quickly. "I'll come by your place at 6:45 . My dad's going out then, so we can get a ride at least partway there."

Kyle would have declined, but Stan was at Football and wouldn't be going home anytime in between now and the game. So...since he wouldn't get a ride with him, why not?

"I can bring friends, right?" He didn't like the idea of being with her alone. Go figure.

"...Ah...Well...okay, I guess." She frowned, but she wasn't about to displease the boy she liked so much. Go figure again.

--

"Hello?"

"Hey...Kenny, is that you?"

"Yeah, hey. Who's this?"

"Kyle."

"What's up?"

"Do you want to go to the football game tonight?"

"..."

"Kenny?"

"...Uh...why? I didn't think you're into that kind of thing."

"Red's invited me and I kinda thought maybe you'd come, too."

"Oh, I see."

"So...?"

"...Ahh, fine. I'm bringing Eric, though."

"...Yeah, okay. Haha...he's going to be so pissed, you know."

"I know." Laughter, sweet. "It's fun to pick on him."

"Atta boy."

"Shut up, man! So are you picking us up?"

"Red's dad, I think. Anyway, you in?"

"Hold on. ...Eric? Eriiiic...hey, you wanna go to the football game tonight?" What the hell do you think, shitbag? "...That's a yes...eventually. Anyway, I've got some negotiating to do, thanks to you. See you in a few hours?"

Laughter, amused. "Yeah. See ya."

--

After Red's dad had picked up Kyle, he'd also, by request, picked up Kenny, Cartman, and Wendy, as well. They had sat squished in the car in silence, Kenny sort of riding up on top of a not-so-amused Cartman (who had been eventually convinced to go to the damn game, a decision he was now regretting.) By the time they were about a ten minute walk from the school, Mr. Red's Dad had to make a turn for some other function he was attending, and now the two girls and three guys were making their way down the snowy sidewalk.

I suppose the first point of interest to mention here is that Wendy, lacking in her usual boyfriend to distract her, had noticed Cartman sort of shuffling off to one side and staying behind the rest of them, listening intently to an Mp3 player.

She was still a little perplexed at the complete disinterest he'd shown earlier.

She fell back a bit, while Kenny walked forward, lost in thought, and Red flirted with a stupidly oblivious Kyle.

"Hey," she said casually, tapping his shoulder. He looked at her, irritation written all over his face.

"Mm?"

She smiled nervously. "What're you listening to?"

He sighed heavily, removed his earphones, and glanced quickly at the dark sky.

" Joplin ," he stated, as if this made him the coolest kid ever.

Her prettily-lined blue eyes widened comically. "Scott Joplin? Seriously?"

He shot her a super-annoyed glare. "Yah, Scott Joplin. There a problem?"

"Nothing!" A brilliant smile brightened her face. "It's just that we've been learning about him in Music Appreciation, and – !"

"Look, ho," Cartman sighed, "I really don't ca-are."

At this time, Kenny knocked himself in between them and shuffled Cartman to the side, away from Wendy.

"Dude, why is Wendy talking to you?" He asked in wonderment. It really wasn't normal. He was kind of used to being Cartman's only friend, and he wanted it to stay that way. In a way, he felt like they were a little like the poor man's Stan and Kyle, except without all the repressed gayness.

"Ugh." Cartman rolled his eyes obnoxiously and put his earphones back on, content with the upbeat and cadenced songs playing happily in his ears. "DON'T be such a fag, Kenny. She already knows I don't like girls like her."

"Like her...?" Kenny repeated, confused, and then shrugged it off. "Well, I'm just saying it's not a good idea to...you know, get too close to Stan's girl."

Cartman gave him an interested glance and shoved him lightly in the shoulder. "Jeal-ous, poe'-boy?"

Kenny made a distressed gesture with his arms.

"No. Man!"

Cartman sniggered. "Lay off, dumbshit. I just told you she knows I'm not interested. Feel free to be her les-bian mistress."

Angered, Kenny opened his mouth but found he couldn't fathom a good reply, so he just shut it and smirked gloomily.

Part of why he liked hanging out with Cartman was that do-all, fuck-all independence of his. Kenny was too self-conscious to be that cool, often wondering if it would feel awesome to be socially free like Cartman or if it might just be a burden. He imagined it could only be a good thing. Cartman was so self-sufficient; so always content with himself. It was admirable. Totally something Kenny could never see himself being.

And for the rest of the walk, Kenny was walking off to the side, alone. Cartman didn't care; he kept trekking to his happily ragtime beat, Wendy eyed both Kenny and Cartman nervously, and Kyle and Red were still in front, making awkward conversation.

--

About one quarter of the way into the game, Kyle was already bored out of his mind. Don't get me wrong; the actual game, itself, was pretty cool, and it was awfully funny to watch Stan running around like his life depended on it (it probably did,) but the fact still remained that Red had been chatting his ear off the entire time and was not likely to shut up any time soon.

He had no idea why she'd dragged them all the way to the top bleacher. Kenny, Cartman, and Wendy were all sitting many rows down, right near the front.

"Uh." Kyle stood suddenly, looking down at her with an apologetic frown. "I'm getting a little bored. I'm gonna walk around the track for a little while, okay?"

"Hey, great idea!" Red stood as well, taking Kyle's hand with a sly smile (as if she totally hadn't realized Kyle's intention at all.) Suppressing a groan, Kyle shrugged and led her down onto the track, passing Kenny, Cartman, and Wendy as they did.

"Hey, Eric?"

Kenny blinked at her and Cartman only grunted, thoroughly pissed off for having been dragged down to the football game in the first place.

"What."

Wendy smiled slightly. "Can I see your ipod?"

Cartman lifted his eyebrows. "It's not an ipod."

"Can I?" she persisted.

Kenny continued looking at her. "Wendy, I don't think he'll -"

"Fine, if it'll shut you up."

Wendy beamed, gleefully sticking the earphones on her head and turning the mp3 player on.

After a moment of unsuccessful fiddling, Wendy was having no luck figuring out the non-ipod controls. Still scowling, Cartman reached over and pressed a few buttons.

Wendy glanced up quickly. His fingers had brushed the back of her hand.

"Your hands are really warm," she remarked as a purely innocent observation, impressed. He wasn't even wearing gloves.

Kenny fidgeted and Cartman shrugged, taking his hand away as soon as the mp3 player was playing Joplin into her ears.

"Yeah," Cartman said, "I know."

"Hey, there's Kyle and Red," Kenny muttered, probably not even realizing he was frowning.

Kyle had to admit: it wasn't too awful, walking the track with Red. The only downside was the way she kept squeezing his hand, as if expecting it to be squeezed back. No dice. Her hands were too hot and sweaty.

They walked around the crowded track in silence, enjoying the white lights and black sky.

When it was nearly halftime, light snow began to fall. Kyle stopped them and turned to Red, releasing her hand.

"I'm gonna go say hi to Stan," he said.

"Ohh," she nodded. "Want me to come with?"

He smiled. "No, that's alright. I'll go alone."

"Okay," she said breathlessly. She reached out, pushed some of his curly-curly hair behind his cold-pinkened ear, and then kissed him.

Mouth slightly parted in surprise, Kyle stared.

"Uh, thanks," he said, perplexed. "I'll see you later."

She laughed quietly, blushing darkly and looking pleased. "I'll find you after halftime. See you, sweetie."

Kyle nodded and jogged away. He hoped she didn't think this meant they were boyfriend and girlfriend...

"Stan!" The redhead-boy called, waving briefly. Stan on the other side of the fence, glanced around in confusion, not aware of from whom or where his name had come.

"Stan," Kyle repeated, coming up to the fence. Stan seemed completely shocked to see him.

"Whoa," he said. "Dude. What the heack are you doing here?" He knew Kyle was less than fond of football games.

Kyle frowned, pretending to be hurt. "What, can't a dude come to cheer on his best friend?"

Stan made a face.

Kyle laughed. "Alright, alright. I admit. Red dragged me."

Stan blinked. "...Red?"

"Yeah." Kyle pursed his lips in thought. "She just kissed me."

"Oh, man!" Stan leaned forward on the fence separating them, brushing sweat from his forehead. "Coach's gonna kill me for skipping halftime talk, but I already missed this much, so...what happened?"

Kyle smirked. "Nothing, and I wish she hadn't done it. I hope she doesn't think we're going out now."

Stan hmphed. "You should be more appreciative. You always get the hot ones."

"...What? That's stupid."

Stan was suddenly in a bad mood again. "I've gotta go, dude. Your girlfriend's probably waiting for you, anyway. See you."

"Uh," Kyle blinked at Stan's retreating form. "Okay?"

After a moment, Kyle regained his conscious mind and yelled:

"I'M STILL MEETING YOU AFTER THE GAME, DUDE!"

--

Sure enough, after the game, Kyle was there to greet his best friend.

"Awesome game," Kyle nodded his approval as Stan came out of the locker rooms, showered and ready to go. "You did good, my friend."

"Huh, thanks." Stan grinned. His mood had improved over the last half of the game; there was no better way to erode stress than with strenuous exercise. He glanced to the side and noticed that Red and Wendy were approaching, chatting blithely with one another.

"Kyle!" Red ran over. "You just ran off without saying anything! That wasn't nice." She gave Stan an up-and-down look, slightly distressed. "You must like him a whole lot more than me." She pouted, as if to get Kyle to express his absolute denial of the 'absurd' accusation.

But Kyle only laughed and put his arm around the other boy's broader shoulders in a friendly manner.

"What can I say?" He laughed again. "We're tight."

Rolling his eyes, Stan kicked Kyle's leg, sending the redhead's arm away as he yelped and cursed.

"Can't anyone take a joke?!" Kyle wondered in an exaggerated moan, hopping on his uninjured leg.

Wendy and Red laughed, and Stan stared at him smugly.

"Come on," Wendy said, face bright and cheery as she grabbed Stan's hand and kissed his brow. "Let's get going."

"Aw, do we seriously have to walk all the home this late?" He whined.

"Hey, Red. Let's go." Kyle ignored Stan and started dragging Red by the hand with a goofy grin stretching his thin lips and making them even thinner. "I don't feel like listening to Stan bitch."

Red sent a worried look back over her shoulder as Kyle pulled her along. Stan looked angry.

--

"So," Stan walked over by his friend a great number of minutes later, once Red and Wendy had run ahead to have a girl chat. "She seriously kissed you, huh? You really do look kinda out of it." He laughed. "Must have been one hell of a kiss."

Kyle smirked. "Fuck off, funny dude," was his light retort. "It was just a kiss, and that wasn't what I was just thinking about. I was thinking about History."

Stan's face brightened with recognition. "Oh, yeah! Do you have that e-mailing thing, too?"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking about. This project seems like it could be a lot of fun, but I think I must have gotten the worst partner I possibly could have gotten." He sighed. "He or she is really lazy."

Stan ducked his head, donning a chagrinned smile. He had been pretty lazy, himself. He felt a little bad, now that Kyle was here and complaining about it.

"Yeah," he agreed, pretending to share in that sentiment. "That sucks. Lazy assholes."

Kyle laughed, knowing Stan was only trying to appease him.

"Hey," the redhead spoke after a long while of comfortable silence. "Wasn't that your house back there?"

"Huh?" Stan blinked, totally out of it. His light-brown eyes widened and he spun around. "Oh! Crap!" He laughed. "You're right!"

Kyle was laughing. Stan smirked back in embarrassment.

"I'll see you, dude. Maybe we'll hang out tomorrow or something." He turned his attention to the girls ahead of them. "WENDY!" he yelled. "I'M OUT, BABE! 'NIGHT!"

"...Byyye," her sweet voice drifted back at him.

Kyle stole Stan's hat, ruffling black hair affectionately (and roughly.)

Stan punched Kyle in the stomach, causing the boy to drop the poofball hat, eyes bugging out.

"For taking my drink at lunch," Stan explained, laughing like a total ass.

Kyle merely stomped down on Stan's foot and walked away.

"Fair enough," Stan grumbled good-naturedly.

He watched his best friend go, a pensive look on his face. So, was Kyle really going out with Red? Did this mean they'd have to put up with another addition to their group? Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Wendy, AND Red?

It seemed a bit much, but he knew it was also way unfair of him to discriminate Red and still want to keep Wendy. After all, they'd sort of fall into the same category if Kyle and Red were really together now.

To Stan's shock, he briefly found himself wondering if it would be best to just dump Wendy and keep ALL girls out of the equation.

Now, that was just 100 percent silly. Really, Stan, how could you think something so absolutely ridiculous...?

When he finally went inside, conveniently ignoring all of these thoughts, he found his attention drifting back to the History "project."

He grabbed some flavored water from the fridge and three oranges (the only thing he'd eaten all day was part of a slushie at lunch and a granola bar before football) and climbed the stairs quickly, shaking his mouse to turn the monitor back alive.

He took a second or two to remember his assigned account and then he logged in. He had a message.

**Hey.**

**Well, we might as well do something, if it's not going to be history Why don't you tell me about yourself? Interests? Talents? Friends? A boyfriend/girlfriend? I'm not going to let you get away with nothing at all, so you might as well be my penpal – unless you want Mrs. Cox to hear about how little effort you're putting into this project. :P**

**-me**

**P.S. Don't you have a name?**

Stan blinked, read over the message twice more, and then smiled a bit. Maybe this could be fun.

He didn't want to give his identity away, just in case he ended up needing someone to confide in in the futre, so he left out all details that would make him obvious: physical appearance, school-related positions, et cetera. Instead, he included some things about himself that he generally never discussed.

When he got to the Friends? question, he immediately thought of Kyle. The fundamental problem, he slowly realized as he typed more and more, was that he sounded pretty damn _gay_ for his best friend. He knew that wasn't the case, but would his pen pal? No; it was impossible to understand the complex nature of his friendship with Kyle unless you were Stan and Kyle, themselves, and, consequently, the ignorant masses jus assumed they had boners for each other.

Stan shook his head. This wouldn't do.

He went back and changed all the "he"s in the best friend description to "she"s.

When he was satisfied with his work (and was certain his pen pal would be, as well,) he signed the name with a on-the-spot alias and sent it on its way.

"This may end up being fun," he mused to himself again, flipping on the little TV and laying on his bed to watch it, saying nothing more.

--

Kyle and Red had gone ahead without Wendy, whose house had been close to Stan's.

Wendy had just opened her purse to grab her house keys when her hand hit something cold and hard in its depths.

'That's right,' she thought gravely, pulling out and solemnly examining the firearm shining dangerously in her hand. 'Tonight is the night I kill Kyle.'

Just kidding. It was actually Eric's MP3 player.

She gazed at it in amazement, just realizing that, in her rush to find Stan earlier, she'd completely forgotten to give the player back to Eric.

Curious to see the great Eric Cartman as he was on a Friday evening, she decided to walk to his place to return it. It wasn't awfully far away.

When she got to the house, she knocked gently and rang the bell.

She definitely wasn't expecting Kenny to answer it.

Kenny looked equally surprised to see her. There was loud, engaging piano music from further inside the house.

"Oh!" She touched her lip contritely. "Am I at the wrong house?"

'Yes,' Kenny thought tiredly, but said: "If you're here to see Eric, this is the place."

"...Oh? Okay." She smiled, showing Kenny the MP3 player. "I kinda accidentally stole it, so I'm bringing it back. Can you call him out for me?"

Kenny frowned. Why couldn't she just give it to him?

"He's playing piano right now. Kinda busy. Trust me," Kenny donned an unfriendly smile, "you don't want to interrupt him when he's really getting into it. It's not safe."

She laughed confused, then blinked and her pretty pink mouth dropped open.

"Wait, are you telling me that's Eric playing?!"

Kenny nodded.

"That's..." she was totally flabbergasted. "He's...amazing! I...I never knew!"

Kenny smiled and laughed lightly. "That's because you aren't friends."

Wendy's own amazed smiled sobered greatly, and she frowned. "Um, well, I'll just come back tomorrow…" She moved to put the player back in her purse.

Kenny considered stopping her and just snatching it so that she wouldn't have to return, but he had a sudden thought: Eric loved that player's company a lot more than Kenny's, so if he had to go without it...

Maybe tonight Kenny wouldn't have to feel so lonely, now that Eric might have an excuse to bother with him.

Cool!

Kenny nodded in thanks. "Alright, I'll tell him you'll be around tomorrow."

She smiled back, a little suspiciously. For some reason, Kenny's recent behavior was coming across as strange. Still, she had nothing to say about it further than that.

"Bye, Kenny."

He shut the door.

--

When Kyle had finally managed to drop Red off at her house (both subtly and blatantly avoiding a good-bye kiss) he crossed the street and walked a block and a half to his place.

"Hey, mom." He smiled and poked his head into the living room. "How was your show?"

She glanced up and smiled. "Ah, it was fine. I missed you, Kyle."

He smiled, "Missed you, too."

She looked like she might not be able to stand not touching her son for a second longer, and grabbed his shoulders toward herself, smothering his face (but not his lips) in kisses.

Giggling in slight embarrassment, he pulled himself away.

"Mom," he complained lightly.

She ruffled his hair. "Alright, you're free to go."

He shrugged, smiled at her, and went up the stairs.

Ike was playing reckless monkey games with the railing. Kyle muttered at the kid not to do such dangerous things, and Ike, always having admired and respected his awesome big bro, heeded the warning, running off to be hyperactive someone else. Kyle grinned after him and thought the kid must have forgotten to take his ADHD meds again.

Once Kyle was in his room, he logged onto his computer and started IMing with his similar-minded internet friends.

He did this late into the night, so into his activity that he totally forgot to make his usual annoy-Stan-at-10:12 phone call.

He glanced at the clock at the bottom corner of his computer screen and recognized that it was far too late in the evening to try to make the call up now.

But now, thinking quickly on the events of the day, Kyle's mind fell to his and Stan's short conversation about the history project.

He decided to log into that account just for fun and read the message he'd received 1st hour and the one he'd send 2nd. Just for the heck of it.

He was pleasantly surprised to see he'd already gotten a new reply.

_hey. okay okay. i'll write to you, so don't say anything to mrs. cox!!! First off, I'm a guy. nobody really knows this, but i someday want to be a kickass chess player. i know it's a hard game, but i know i'm smart enough to do it, but most people think i'm too stupid to do it. sucks, i know. i bet you don't know how much it sucks when everyone thinks you're stupid. you seem pretty smart. even my best friend thinks i'm stupid. she's...really smart, probly smarter then you, i mean...seriously smart, but she kind of treats me like i'm just some funny kid who's there. i dont think she really likes me, but i wish she did. i guess thats kind of why i want to get good at chess. i think shed take me seriously if i did. i have a girlfriend and she always tells me im smart, but shes not as smasrt as my best friend, so i guess it doesnt mean as much. anyway, i have to go. happy now? don't tell mrs. cox on me!!_

_Mr. E_

_ps. why don't YOU have a name?_

Kyle's initial response was confusion, and then, when he read the fake name, it was to burst out laughing and not stop for five or six minutes. But, deep inside, he knew – he just KNEW – that, in one or two hours, when lying quietly in his bed, he'd probably be wishing he'd have come up with such a great pun.

-end ch2-

* * *

LOL. What do you think? Please review! I'm having fun, but you guys make it just that much better!


	3. An Endangered Cherry

Hey, guys! I'm back lol 8D

First: I'd like to apologize in advance for this long-ass A/N.

Second: IBB pointed out that Wendy seems to be acting cute out of nowhere. I guess I should have explained this better: she wasn't particularly attracted to Eric, but the fact that he wasn't interested in her was taken as, I guess, a sort of insult, so she's trying to prove to herself (?) that she can at least get some attention from every guy she meets. I know girls like this. I used to be one. I see them around school every day, and I see attraction come seemingly out of nowhere and for no reason all the time, so I'm content with her characterization. Doesn't mean you have to agree!

**Also, if you spot inconsistencies in characters' behavior, remember: I'm trying to portray relatively realistic teens, not fanfic-ready cookie-cutter d00dz. That means the nature of their actions will definitely vary a little between scenes. This is intentional, I swear. XD**

Third: I also apologize in advance for the pacing of my plot. It's moving at mach speed, but I can't find any way to stop it. Sorry D: **A lot of Stan/Kyle in this chapter, though. Yay?**

Fourth: congrats to those who figured out my lame-o pun. LOL.

asteriskin': I'm glad you like Eric! Seriously. I think he'll end up being the most level-headed out of all of them, from the way my plotplotting seems to be shaping up. (looks over notes) yep. XD

IBB: I...I totally didn't even think about that hat thing. I LOVE YOU FOR POINTING IT OUT THOUGH LOL. Oh my god, I am like...addicted to your reviews. You little dickens. (love.)

Stormqueen873: I find that I can't write without being lame/humorous, so it's my forte by default. Thank you so much, I'll miss you forever until you review again. (eyebrows)

Angels-Obsession: NAW, you're hotter DB ...do you think I can't play anything except Scott Joplin? Bitch. I'll go Bartok on your bod.

Everyone else: I LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU FOREVER FOR REVIEWING D:

* * *

**METhOD 03: An Endangered Cherry**

"Life is just a bowl of cherries; don't take it serious, it's mysterious. Life is just a bowl of cherries, so live and laugh and laugh at love, love a laugh, laugh and love." –Bob Fosse

* * *

It was horribly cold when Stan woke up, and he knew immediately that somebody had forgotten to turn up the thermostat last night. What? It wasn't his job to do it! 

He sat up in bed and huddling in on himself, wrapping his warm blanket around his shoulders and resting the side of his head on his knees.

Kyle!

No, no, he wasn't daydreaming about Kyle. (I wish...) Thing was, in this position, Stan would see out the window, and out on the street, he could plainly see his best friend Kyle. Rushing past. Not giving Stan's place a single glance.

And though Stan couldn't see Kyle's face, he could tell by the hurried, non-composed form of his friend that something was wrong.

Oh, god. Had there been a fire? Was Kyle's house under attack by neo-Nazis? Had Mrs. Broflovski finally cracked and was trying to kill everyone with a carrot peeler?

Stan was overcome with an entirely unnecessary panic. Scrambling about and ignoring the freezing air, he reached for the black cell phone lying on his floor.

He had Kyle on sped dial, but, of course, he had no idea which number his friend's was assigned to. Luckily enough, he also knew Kyle's number by heart.

Each unanswered ring only worried Stan more.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

_Sorry, dudes, can't come to the phone right now! Leave a message..._

_Bee-----_

"Kyle! Dude! Answer your phone! Is something--?"

"Heysorry. Whossit?"

Stan could hear Kyle gasping for breath. He'd been running, obviously.

"Kyle!" Stan muttered loudly. "I just saw you running past. Dude, is something wrong?"

He could only hear his friend's heavy panting for a few seconds, as well as a lot of unrecognizable background noise that was making Stan nervous.

"Kyle? Ky – Dude. Is..." Stan sucked in a breath, bracing himself. "...Is someone trying to _kill_ you?"

"What?...Uh, no, man." Stan could just imagine the strange face Kyle must have been making. "It's Red."

Stan blinked. "What...? Red?"

"YEAH, dude!" Kyle's breathing sped up, creating obnoxious static on Stan's end. "She just up and – haa – shows up at my damn door at 7:30 in the fucking morning – it's weird, dude; it's WEIRD."

Stan really could not agree more. He was seriously pissed off. Not particularly at Red, but more at the universe in general for even letting her be born.

"What did she want?" Stan asked slowly.

Kyle took another moment to get his breath back. He seemed a bit calmer when he spoke again:

"She wanted to go ice skating." Kyle inhaled deeply, and then bellowed, "ICE SKATING."

Stan honestly had no idea what to say. It wasn't that this was a huge shocker; he was just...he couldn't really think of an appropriate reply. In a way, he was embarrassed on Red's behalf. She was really on her way to making Kyle hate her.

"So..." Stan cleared his throat. "You just...ran?"

"Yeah..." Kyle groaned. "I...I told her I had something really important to do, and then I ran." He sounded kind of embarrassed, himself.

Stan sat down on his bed and set his cell to speakerphone, grabbing his clothes and a change of boxers. The first things he went for, though, were his socks. His feet were nearly frozen through.

"Don't you think she might be following you? Or...find out what you're doing?"

"Yeah, that's why I ran." Kyle's voice came loudly now that he was on speaker. Stan didn't really like the grainy noise. He'd prefer to hear his friend's voice in person. "Actually, Stan. It's a good thing you called." Kyle paused. "...You're up, right?"

Stan snorted as he pulled a long-sleeved shirt over his torso.

"Duh."

"Okay. Well, I just thought I really should find something important to do just in case she...you know."

Stan was hopping around, trying to get into his jeans. He fell on his ass.

"...Uh huh," he said, getting back up and rubbing the sore spot with an annoyed grimace.

"Well, uh." Kyle sounded uneasy, like he was trying to do something else at the same time he was talking to Stan. Stan figured this was probably the case. "If you don't have plans, would you, uh...would you be my important thing?"

Stan paused mid-zip and stared at the phone lying on his bed.

"Um," he answered after a lag. "Yeah...sure. No problem."

"Cool." Kyle sounded relieved. "Meet me at Tweek's?" This was what they called the coffee shop in town. There was never confusion, because neither boy ever went to Tweek's house.

"Kay," Stan answered quietly, running a small amount of gel through his hair. He always showered in the evening, so he usually woke up with frizzy hair.

"Half hour," Kyle elaborated, a smile in his voice. "And thanks."

Before Stan could reply, Kyle had hung up.

And Stan, the fantastically heterosexual young man that he was, still found himself in awe that Kyle had asked him to be his..."important thing."

It was only because it happened to have been Stan who called, he reasoned. Kyle could have asked anyone.

But still, he felt kind of cool.

--

"Eric's sleeping. I'll take it."

It was really cold outside. Shivering and rubbing her arms with gloved hands, Wendy watched the blonde boy for a long time. She just kept getting the feeling that Kenny was angry at her.

She didn't know why. Maybe it had to do with Eric? (No way!)

"Okay," she agreed uncomfortably, handing him the mp3 player. "Um, did I do something...?"

"Nah," Kenny shrugged one shoulder. He actually thought her worried frown was kinda cute. "Just had a bad week." And, he didn't add, Eric was now royally pissed at him.

Last night, he'd explained that Wendy would be back tomorrow with his mp3 player. Kenny had proceeded to turn on the TV and sit down in hopes that Eric would join him. Instead, Eric had gotten quite upset at the news and called the smaller boy a few less-than-endearing names (his favorite being 'clingy, annoying piecashit') before storming up to his room.

Eric really loved that mp3 player.

"Oh," she frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry..."

He offered her a small smile. "Nah, it's fine. I'm the one who should apologize."

She lifted dark brows. "Why?"

"Been taking it out on you." He glanced to the side, gawkily. "You know."

She did know, but was humble enough not to say anything.

"Thanks, Kenny," she replied with a warm smile, and she went on her way. She had some stuff to take care of, and she'd be meeting Stan in a few hours.

"Sure, Wendy." He clutched the damned player tightly. "Thank you, too."

He closed the door gently, a contemplative glaze over his eyes. He really didn't like that girl. She always seemed so...reserved. So happy. So...dishonest.

--

As expected, there Kyle was: sitting at their usual table in the corner of Tweek Bros'. The tallish, red-haired boy had one leg bent up on his thigh, face propped in right hand while his left drummed on the table, and his foot was tapping rapidly on the ground. He was staring blankly out the window, an untouched cup of hot chocolate sitting before him.

"Sorry I'm late," Stan burbled as he rushed in. "I came s'fast I could."

Kyle glanced up and stopped his drumming and tapping. He nodded his acknowledgement.

"No prob, dude. I wasn't here long."

"Not that I would care," Stan joked with a falsely mean smile, sitting down and picking up the hot chocolate. It seemed to be cooling quickly.

"Oh, sure," Kyle sighed, drumming his fingers on the table again. "I totally didn't want that, or anything."

"But...I thought it was for me," Stan whined, lifting the cup to his mouth to hide a mischievous smile that Kyle had noticed anyway. Stan took a long sip of the sweet and smacked his mouth in contentment. "You know, as a thank-you for taking time out of my busy schedule to be your 'important thing.'"

Kyle's face screwed up in annoyance and he kicked Stan's shin under the table. Stan winced, but he said nothing.

"Asshole," Kyle added as an afterthought.

Stan nodded in full agreement. They left it at that.

--

"So," Stan started once about half of the not-so-much-hot-as-lukewarm chocolate was gone. "What do you wanna do?"

Kyle shrugged. "I d'no. I dragged you out, so you choose."

Stan looked down at his cup unresponsively. He hated when people made him choose. He was rather the people-pleaser, and he didn't want to disappoint.

Sensing Stan's discomfort, Kyle leaned forward and fished for a pen in his coat pocket. He tapped Stan on the head with it and the dark-haired boy looked up, mind obviously somewhere else.

Kyle grinned at him. "Wanna do homework, then?"

"Oh!" Stan's face lit up in recognition. "I just remembered. I need to go buy a copy of Huck Finn for English."

Kyle nodded sagely. "Ahkay."

"And, uh," Stan frowned. "Also, I gotta meet Wendy in a bit."

Kyle looked mildly impressed. "Oh? When?"

"Couple hours."

Kyle stood and cocked his head once, then once again to toss stray curls from his eyes.

"I'll be okay by then. So, let's jet."

Stan stood as well, tossing the empty cocoa cup at the garbage.

He completely missed the shot, his cup falling to the floor and rolling about. With a scowl, Stan watched as Kyle snickered, bent down to grab the cup, and tossed it away properly.

--

"Um," Kyle cleared his throat. "The literature's over...there, Stan."

Stan muttered something and flicked his hand dismissively, head buried in some comic book he'd picked up.

"Dude, it's been forever since I came here. I've missed these..."

Kyle folded his arms over his chest and his lips smiled while his eyes and eyebrows frowned.

"Stan...I thought you said you have to meet Wendy soon." Kyle exhaled heavily. "Maybe you should get the English book _before_ you start dicking around."

Stan ignored the suggestion, brown eyes sparkling marvelously at the nearly-endless array of comics. Kyle grunted in annoyance and started to walk away when Stan, searching for his next comic endeavour, gasped:

"Ohhhh...DUDE!"

and called Kyle's attention back.

"What is it?" The redhead wondered what could have excited his friend so.

Stan sent a furtive glance to the side and crept over to his expectant friend.

"Dude. Look what someone left out."

Stan had gotten hold of a Playboy magazine.

Kyle snorted in amusement but glared at his friend.

"That's all?" He asked.

Stan grinned lamely and started flipping through the volume. Not long after, he was stifling high-pitched giggles like a maniac.

"Stan, dude," Kyle gaped at him nervously. "Chill; people are staring."

Stan, still snorting and giggling, lowered himself to the ground and huddled over his playboy treasure, forehead resting against a wall.

"Dude, dude, no; this is so awesome," he managed.

Kyle rubbed his temples and sighed,

"How immature," he groused, but the image of Stan giggling crazily whilst huddled over something as asinine as a Playboy was too much. To his horror, Kyle found himself giggling along, and suddenly –

Suddenly, everything in the world seemed hilarious, and he just couldn't stop.

"Stan," he gasped, trying to keep his voice in a whisper. His face was completely red from failed attempts at holding back his laughter, "DUDE, p-put it down, seriously – we'll get in trouble – !"

Stan just kept laughing.

"They'll ki-ick us out," Kyle continued, shoving Stan's shoulder forcefully. "You're – you're such a retard, man!"

They both just kept laughing.

Sure enough, they were kicked out.

--

"Goddammit!" Stan declared as they trekked along the sidewalk. "I didn't even get the English book."

Kyle grunted, cheeks still red with laughter though he felt a great deal less humorous inside. What the hell had even been so funny? He was pissed. Unlike Stan, Kyle had a good relationship with that bookstore. Being kicked out was a major bummer.

"Oh, crap." Stan suddenly looked panicky. It was apparent that he was ignoring Kyle's obviously bad mood for the sole reason of having no good way to make it up to his friend for the embarrassment. "What time is it, dude?"

"Huh?" Kyle blinked, looking at Stan. He dug his hand into his coat pocked and pulled out his cell. "... 9:45 ."

"I gotta meet Wendy at the park at ten," Stan said. He frowned delicately. "Let's head over...?"

"Sure," was Kyle's indifferent reply. He was still upset about the bookstore.

--

He sighed and yawned, turning the player over and over in his cold hand. It was cold out, and not the nice kind of cold that a lot of fancy assholes would call 'brisk' or 'fresh,' either. It was just damn cold, and that's all that could be said.

"Am I clingy?" He asked the player carefully, eyes subconsciously following the shapely behind of a female passer-by. When she was out of sight, he looked back down at the mysterious contraption. He turned it over again, and again; as if he were looking for something.

An answer? He frowned.

"Hey..."

He slowly looked up, and he smiled.

"Hey, Kyle. What's up?"

Kyle sat down on the park bench next to him, not bothering to brush the snow off the seat.

"Ah, nothing much. I was chilling with Stan this morning and he had to meet Wendy here, so..." he shrugged.

Kenny smirked at him, pocketing the mp3 player before speaking.

"Sucks, dude."

"Hmm..." Kyle stared at him. Something was wrong with the blonde boy, but whatever. It obviously wasn't anything to be too worried about. "What do you mean?"

"He's ditched you for his girlfriend," Kenny explained uneasily. "I mean, doesn't it suck even a little bit?"

Kyle threw his arm around Kenny's shoulders and sighed loudly.

"Not really; I was the one who interrupted his plans in the first place. So, mister devil's advocate, what's _your_ problem?"

Kenny did appreciate that he finally got some time alone with Kyle, but it made him a little anxious to know he was probably just Stan's replacement. He shifted nervously under the weight of Kyle's arm.

Glancing around and realizing there was nothing to stare at, Kenny sighed.

"I must be tired or something," he muttered lamely, leaning his head back and resting it on Kyle's arm. He closed his eyes and drifted for a bit. He honestly hadn't realized he was this exhausted. He hadn't slept well last night...and man, this friendly warmth was so nice, he couldn't help it...

After a short while, Kyle chuckled quietly, shaking his arm a bit to wake Kenny back up.

"Ah...sorry." Kenny leaned off of Kyle's arm and stood from the bench. He smirked at the redhead. "Dunno what got into me."

Kyle quirked his mouth facetiously and glanced heavenward. "Ey, it's fine. We all have those days –"

"KYLE!!"

He jumped, jaw falling open helplessly. Both he and Kenny spun to the source of the screech.

"Uhhh...!" He fumbled with his words, unable to form speech. And before he could, his face was met by a flying bitchslap.

Kenny gaped, trying not to laugh. What? Girls slapping guys was pretty damn funny. At least, it was to him.

"B...What the fuck?" Kyle wondered. He looked not so much angry as he was confused.

Bebe glared at him. "You're awful! How could you do that to her?!"

Kenny set his eyes inquisitively on the other boy. Kyle rubbed his cheek and gazed at the furious-looking blonde in wonder.

"Um. What?"

Bebe's eyes bugged out hilariously (okay, seriously, Kenny, this really isn't that funny;) "What do you mean, 'UM WHAT?!' You Jewish bastard, you stood up your own girlfriend, and that's all you have to say?! 'UM WHAT?'"

Many thoughts spun round. I stood up my girlfriend? I...have a girlfriend? I'm...Jewish? Oooh...she slaps hard...

After a moment, he could think clearly again.

Frowning in thought, he peered at her. "Wait, who? What did I do?"

Bebe growled in utter frustration and Kenny backed away a bit. This was starting to look serious. A few passers-by were watching warily.

"YES!! You and Red had a romantic ice-skating date for this morning, and when she comes you just...what? RUN?! That's terrible!"

"Wait, wait." Kyle hid his face in one hand and held the other up in a 'stop' signal. "First of all..."

He stopped. Oh...Crap.

Had this 'date' been one of the things Red had mentioned last night, at the game? One of the things she'd said when Kyle had been ignoring her completely?

"Ugggh! You're just awful to all girls! You dumped me for no good reason and you can't keep a date with her, either – you know what?" She stepped forward and pushed him in the chest. "I think I know what's wrong with you, Kyle!"

Kyle sighed inwardly. All these damn girls; so much drama.

Kenny tried to intervene. "Uh...Bebe..."

Well, she obviously was still not over the fact that Kyle had dumped her. Why else would she be this upset over him allegedly standing up some _other _girl? Red and Bebe weren't even friends.

"Bebe, she's not my girlfriend," he grumbled, but the blonde girl wasn't letting up.

"Yeah, duh." She scoffed unreasonably. "Because the only reason a guy would ever dump Bebe Stevens is –!"

"Bebe!" Kenny objected.

She did stop, channeling that energy to glare menacingly at Kyle.

"You know, I really shouldn't be wasting any more time here when I could be at the 13-hour sale down at..."

Both Kyle and Kenny tuned her out by male habit. Shopping talk? No.

"...Faggot!" Was the last word heard from her mouth before she stormed down the walk to meet her perplexed friends.

Kenny was silent, wondering how Kyle would react.

Kyle merely blinked, splayed himself out on the bench, and stared at the sky.

"If this is all girls are going to make me feel," he joked irritably, "then maybe I _am."_

Kenny may or may not have seen some truth behind the statement.

--

Additionally, certain other events may or may not have transgressed over the remainder of the weekend. Regardless, I don't care to share them with you. Sorry, but I can't be following them around all the time...I have stuff to do, too!

--

Monday morning.

Kyle was running a bit late, and his mother's worried moaning wasn't really helping. He'd needed to print out some page of homework, but his printer had crapped out on him. After fiddling unsuccessfully with it, he just decided to e-mail the paper to himself and print it out at school, before class.

"Bye," Kyle called out in the general direction of his house. He ran out and dashed down the sidewalk, taking note of the houses he was passing.

Whoa. It was like deja...whatever.

"Hey, guys!" he gasped, skipping to a clumsy stop just as the bus was pulling up. His friends greeted him quickly and boarded the vehicle. Kyle was the last one on, taking his usual seat by Stan.

For the first time that morning, Kyle noticed his best friend was looking a little buggered out.

"You okay?" he wondered, chewing gently on his thumbnail without giving the action much thought.

Stan looked at him. "Yeah."

Greenish-grayish-brownish (Stan could never decide for sure) eyes gazed up at his dark-haired friend. "Sure? You look kinda sick."

"I do?" Stan pursed his lips defensively.

Kyle just huffed and shrugged, removing his thumb from his teeth. "Maybe it's just me."

Stan smiled a bit nervously. "Uh-huh."

"Hey, Ky?"

Kyle sat up straight and addressed the speaker with a wide grin. "Ken-naaay!"

"Dude," Kenny pulled a face and then grinned back. "We should hang out more."

Stan looked rather confused, but he didn't interrupt the conversation. Kenny and Kyle had been hanging out on Sunday?

Kyle's grin morphed into a happy-go-lucky smirk.

"Yeah, dude. Yesterday was awesome. We kicked zombie ass!" Kyle put his hand up, prompting a high-five, but Kenny only snerked and shook his head with an amused 'dude.'

Defeated, Kyle swung his hand back down, then glanced curiously at the ground. Stan's foot had just touched his. He looked at the taller boy.

"Hey, Stan, you sure you're okay?"

Stan was staring in the other direction, out the window.

"Yeah," he answered.

"'Kay." Kyle knew he wasn't really okay, but he wasn't the kind of guy to bug his friends when they obviously didn't want to talk. He turned and started chatting with Kenny about their video-game-filled Sunday, fully aware of the fact that Stan's foot was still touching his.

Ahh, drama. But things were alright, and Kyle couldn't really complain.

--

Stan went to his locker alone that morning. Kyle apparently had something to do in the Media Center.

Stan found he was functioning a bit slowly today. He frowned, feeling detached from the languid hand turning his locker combination. So...slow. Dazed...

"Staaan..."

"Mm...!!!" Stan jerked and backed away a slight, staring at his girlfriend with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"Oh – my god, Wendy." He swallowed and looked down nervously. "You...nowhere...came...!"

"Sorry," she said, frowning and approaching him carefully. Stan had been very jumpy since Saturday. "Honey? Are you okay?"

"Goddammit, I'm fine." He grumbled, proceeding to wrestle open his locker. He shook it angrily until it flew open. It nearly hit his head again, the little bastard.

She laughed under her breath and hugged him from behind, resting her head down on his shoulder. She was a few inches taller than him.

"You know you don't have to," she muttered; "I'm not forcing you or anything..."

Stan sighed, closing his eyes and setting his head against the lockers as Wendy pressed relaxing kisses to the back and side of his neck.

"I..." he started, "...I...no, I want to, but..." he frowned harder, as if this would help him to think. "I'm not saying no, Wendy, I just...I don't know."

"Take your time and think on it," she said simply. "I love you, Stan; so much." She continued to nip gently at his neck. It helped his body to relax, but he couldn't help feeling sick in his mind.

When they were to Mrs. Cox's class, they went to their own ends of the room without so much as a kiss.

For some reason, Stan found himself looking forward to what his penpal had to say. He liked communication through writing. More opportunities to lie.

"Let's go..." Mrs. Cox beckoned them tiredly. It was Monday morning, after all.

He had a message.

**Mr. E! I get it! Aha, real cute.**

**So, you have a girlfriend and a girl best-friend? Lucky man. You really have no right to complain, you know.**

**Well, I don't know exactly what to say. Maybe you should just try to show off these "smarts" of yours more. But do you think maybe you're being a little selfish? If I had a girlfriend who was totally happy with me, I'd be pretty satisfied with just that. Maybe you're thinking about it too much. Hey, dude. Does your best friend have a boyfriend? Maybe you should date her instead, you know? Sorry I'm not much help.**

**-that one dude (TOD)**

"Dammit," Stan muttered angrily, minimizing his window when he noticed Wendy was trying to read what was on his screen.

"Wendy," he said as he started to type his response into MS Word (to spellcheck first.) "You know what?"

"Mm?"

He scowled. "Today sucks."

She chuckled gently and squeezed his thigh.

"You'll make it," she assured him.

--

As the bell for the end of 1st hour rang, Kyle got out of his seat and started straightening his papers. He was about to leave when, without warning, someone's foot knocked heavily into the back of his knees.

"Ahh!" He buckled forward and fell hard, wincing. "Goddammit, Cartman!"

He looked up to see those dark blue eyes leering at him.

"Why, hello there, my favourite fairy fagmo," Cartman greeted sweetly, and then got straight to the point: "What did you do to Kenny?"

"What the fuck?" Kyle growled, standing shakily and recovering the papers he'd dropped. Being kicked in the back of the knees was such a weird feeling, seriously.

Cartman only scoffed at him and left the classroom without another word. He didn't really like talking to Kyle for longer than a minute or two when the topic was something really personal like a mutual friend. He didn't want to accidentally end up _bonding _with him, or anything like that.

Kyle stared after him, confused, and then remembered he had somewhere to be.

When he reached his second-hour, he saw Wendy was the last one coming out of Cox's empty classroom. She looked preoccupied.

"Wendy," he nodded at her, and her head snapped up in surprise.

"Oh!" Her expression softened a bit. "Hey."

"Where's Stan?" he wondered, glancing around.

She frowned and sighed. "He had to go to the nurse halfway through class. He just had this random puke attack, no idea why..."

The way she trailed off so softly and glanced at the ceiling told Kyle that she did have some idea 'why,' but he didn't push it.

"That's hilarious," he gave a toothy grin, a light wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. "Did he actually...?"

She sniffed at him in annoyance. "Whatever, Kyle. No; he didn't vomit in the room. He's classier than that."

"Sorry..." he apologized, not really meaning it. His unrelenting grin was quite tempting, though, so Wendy smiled back at him before going on her way.

He was still wondering about (and laughing on the inside at) his unfortunate best friend by the time the bell had rung and they had been herded off to the Media Center.

The message in his inbox was certainly not what Kyle had been expecting:

_I need to talk to someone. I can't think of anyone else except you. Can we talk, tonight? At 6? By email, I mean._

_Mr. E_

Blinking in surprise, Kyle typed his response.

--

"Kyle, I'm so, so sorry."

Kyle stared at her bowed head, idly noticing how the yellow sunlight from the windows was turning parts of her hair gold.

"Um, oh. It's cool, really."

She lifted her head quickly, revealing her hopeful smile. "Really?"

He laughed, feeling inexplicably anxious.

"Really."

"Oh, thanks!" She leaned over and hugged him tightly.

Feeling dreadfully awkward, Kyle hugged her back. Thankfully, their Trig teacher, Mr. Rapp, cleared his throat at them and had them separate.

"Not in my classroom!" he said to them, irritated.

Red smiled sheepishly and slid into her seat, right next to Kyle.

Rapp asked for the homework to be passed up. As it was, Red leaned a little into her very favourite boy and murmured quietly.

"Hey...Kyle?"

He kept staring unseeingly at the back of the neck of whoever was sitting in front of him. He and Red were in the last row. "Yeah?"

She prodded him in the side until he finally looked at her. Pursing her lips in thought, she smiled brightly.

"So, then, you'll be my boyfriend?"

Huh?!

His eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth uselessly.

"I...uh...are you serious?"

She bit her lip, obviously trying to contain giggles. "Of course, Kyle."

He looked down to his lap, wondering why he felt so shaky. He usually had more confidence with girls...

"Uh, I dunno," he said at length, quietly so as not to evoke Mr. Rapp's wrath. "Can we, uh...can we talk about this later?"

She smiled and nodded, fingertips brushing affectionately over his arm before she put them to class-related use. He smiled back, restraining the urge to shudder away.

--

Just when Stan finally made it out of the ridiculously long lunch line with his slushie and fries, he saw Kyle and Red coming into the cafeteria from their Trig class.

Holding hands.

Sighing to himself, Stan sat in his place across from Kenny and grinned at the blonde.

"Looks good," Kenny remarked, eyeing Stan's fries hungrily. Stan leaned in and tossed one at him, smacking Kenny square in the forehead just as Red and Kyle took their seats.

"Thanks!" Kenny said, ignoring the whole tossed-at-the-forehead thing. He munched happily on the potato-based weapon as Kyle sent him an amused smirk and elbowed Stan 'hello.'

They chatted for a while about nothing particularly interesting, Kenny eating his usual jelly sandwich, Red eating breadsticks, Kyle eating a monstrously large apple, and Stan with his fries and frozen drink.

Out of nowhere, Kenny turned to Red.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask...do you have anything going on this Saturday...?"

Kyle and Stan both laughed. Kenny was still doing that...

"So," Stan muttered casually around a fry he'd propped between his lips like a cigarette. "What happened, dude?" He sent a subtle nod in Red's direction, referring to the complete 180 Kyle's attitude toward her seemed to have taken. After all, he'd just been running away from her not two or three days before!

Kyle glanced at him mildly, eyes following the fry Stan was wiggling distractingly between his teeth.

"I dunno, she's not really that bad..." Kyle rested his chin on his hand and tossed his apple core over Kenny's head and into the garbage. "She asked me out, I said I'd think about it." Testing the waters, Kyle reached for Stan's slushie.

Stan shoved him away with a somewhat retarded laugh.

"Naaaw, dude!" he denied, swallowing his fry and propping another between his lips. "That's mine."

Red pleasantly injected herself into the conversation:

"Ky-Ky, don't take Stan's drink," she chided in a sugary voice.

Kenny laughed noisily at the horrible nick-name, Stan pretended she wasn't there, and Kyle looked somewhat miserable.

"Do you have to call me that?" he wondered.

She grinned. "Yup! If you want a drink, sweetie, I can buy one for you," she offered.

He shrugged and shook his head. "I want this one," he said, reaching out quickly for Stan's drink, again. Stan was wiser now and didn't let him near, smirking in triumph when Kyle failed to steal it. Red giggled and stood up to go buy him one anyway. Kyle frowned but didn't try to stop her.

"Go on, Ky-Ky," Stan mocked once she was out of earshot, "let your _girlfriend_ treat you." He closed his eyes smugly and stuck another fry in his mouth.

Kyle grinned. "Hey, Stan?"

"Mm?"

"Be my girlfriend, dude."

Stank choked on his fry and slammed his palms down on the table as he coughed, leaving ample opportunity for Kyle to reach out and steal the cherry slush. He took a long, long sip, then set it back down before the dark-haired boy.

"Thanks, baby," Kyle teased, then feigned a worried frown. "Stanley...we need to talk...I love you...but not like that. I think we should go back to being just friends."

Stan seriously looked like he might pass out from lack of air; that fry had gone down to a very bad place, and he was failing to dislodge it.

Kyle noticed this and moved to help, but he was hit quite suddenly, clutching his head and screwing his face up with a gruesome moan:

"OWWWW! Brain freeeeeeze!!"

"Jesus Christ, guys!" Kenny, with a jolt, jumped up and smacked Stan's back until the fry had passed from his throat to its proper place.

"God," Stan gasped, glaring at his 'ex-boyfriend.' Kyle looked like he was in major pain, moaning pitifully and holding his brain-frozen head. "Kyle, you retard!!"

It was at this time that Red returned with a cherry slush, looked at the scene before her, and considered, for the very first time, that she may not belong.

--

As they traveled up the stairs at the end of lunch, Kenny went with Stan and Kyle, smiling cheerfully and pretending not to notice Wendy and Cartman walking together in the other direction.

--

The next time (after Biology) Stan saw Kyle was in the locker room before PE.

Having changed already, Stan was laying coffin-style atop one of the benches in between lockers. His hands were folded over his stomach.

Turning his head to the side, Stan's eyes idly followed Kyle's busy form. The redhead was talking to him about something, god-knew-what because Stan sure as hell wasn't listening, and walking here-and-there to put this in that place and take that out of this and put on such and such article of clothing. You know. Locker room stuff.

"...level was..."

Stan was thinking about, amongst a few other relevant topics, the letter from TOD. Of course, Stan thought; of course he would have to play the 'date your best friend' card. Didn't anyone comprehend that a best friend was just a best friend? But people tended to let their imaginations go way far, and suddenly, wanting your best friend's approval or thinking your best friend is amazing means you're in love.

"...and Kenny..."

It was kind of sad, but the idea was now partially in Stan's head and he couldn't escape it.

"...awesome! And, like..."

If Kyle really were a girl, he'd be pretty hot. He was good-looking enough as a guy, but Stan, being primarily (...) attracted to females, thought that a female-Kyle would be the bomb diggity.

"...but then..."

If Kyle were a girl, would I ask her out?

"...and, oh, my god, you won't..."

If Kyle were a girl, he wouldn't be in this room right now.

"...part was so..."

Kyle may have looked pretty enough to be a girl, and he was small enough, but seriously? That attitude was _anything_ but cute. Still...Stan didn't want his best friend any other way.

"...and..."

Stan didn't want his best friend, period.

"Alright, let's go. Stan?"

"Huh?" Stan sat up dazedly and nodded, stretching. "Yeah, okay."

And then, there was that other thing Stan had been worried about...

--

After a long 7th-hour period of Red's intolerable chit-chattering, Kyle was glad to be riding the dank, crowded bus home. It wasn't a long ride to their stop.

"Hey," Kyle nudged Stan, who glanced at him silently. "How's it going with Wendy?"

Stan looked surprised, as if unsure of Kyle's meaning or wary of his intention.

"Uh...fine...um, Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"If Wendy - well, what would you say if - uhhhh..." Stan hesitated and then shrugged. "Nah, never mind."

Kyle stared at him. "...Sure, dude. Whatever."

Stan seemed eager to leave even before the bus jerked to a halt. He said a quick bye to his friends once it did and then departed, not waiting for or expecting Kyle to walk home with him like he usually did.

Kyle chewed gently on the inside of his mouth as he got off, hiking his backpack up on one shoulder and watching the form that was Stan jogging home. The small redhead turned and went in the other direction, towards his own house.

When Kyle reached his home, he knew right away that his mom was in a bad mood. For a few years, she'd been dangerously close to bipolar, as sometimes the tiniest things set her off while other times she was inhumanly serene. Gerald had determined that she most likely was depressed by the somewhat sunless and cold climate of Colorado, and they had almost moved away. However, Sheila loved her children very much, and she saw Ike's and Kyle's unwillingness to part from their friends - so she convinced her husband she would be alright if they stayed.

So, they'd stayed. Kyle really did love his mom...it was just hard to express it when she was so likely to explode every time he talked to her. Just the sound of her voice made him nervous, nowadays.

"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO JUMP ON THE FURNITURE?!"

Kyle gave Ike a small, sympathetic smile as he passed through the living room and headed for the stairs. He hoped their mom wouldn't give his brother too hard of a time.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorryyyy!" Ike spazzed so hard that, for a split-second, his head seemed to...flap.

Kyle closed his bedroom door and tossed himself onto his bed with a sigh. He listened absently to the noises from downstairs for a few minutes before he got up and went to his computer. Nobody worth talking to was on IM.

"Might as well," he said, unzipping his school bag and pulling out his Trig text. Just as he'd grabbed a pencil and his calculator, he remembered -

Mr. E had wanted to talk...

He checked the clock on his computer: 3:35. And he had wanted to talk at 6. Kyle opened a new browser window and logged in to the history account, leaving the inbox open so that, when (and if) Mr. E really had wanted to talk, he'd know when the first email came.

With a last, lingering thought on what could possibly be on his penpal's mind, Kyle got to work.

--

"Mmmn."

Kyle's head jerked and shot up suddenly, glancing around with wide eyes. Taking a minute to calm down from whatever dream had scared him so, he looked at the computer clock.

6:23

"Aw, dammit," he cursed quietly, rubbing his eyes sleepily and readjusting his crooked glasses. He'd fallen asleep at his desk.

Shaking his mouse to bring his monitor out of hibernation, he saw that he'd received two messages.

**Hey...are you there?**

**Mr. E**

and

**Hello?**

Kyle frowned and speedily typed a response, as if this would make up for him missing the set "conversation" time.

_Hi. Sorry, I fell asleep. Really sorry._

Surprisingly enough, Kyle got an almost-immediate response.

**Hey. no problem. at least your here now**

_Yeah. So, what did you need to talk about?_

Kyle had to wait five or ten minutes before receiving a reply. In the time between, he was somewhat distracted by a movie on TV.

**this is gonna sound kinda wierd, but have you ever had sex?**

Oh, god, thought Kyle. He seriously hoped this guy hadn't just come asking for sex tips. If that was the case, Kyle wouldn't have it.

_No, actually._

**well, my girlfriend wants to, and i dont really know what to do.**

_What do you mean? You don't know how, or you don't know if you want to?_

**i mean like i dont know if i should.**

_Well, at least now I understand why you didn't want to talk to your friends about it..._

**ok**

Kyle smiled a bit. Obviously, this wasn't someone who often used the internet for recreation.

_I don't know. If you are in 10th grade, I think you might want to wait a year or two. Or five._

**oh...i know, but i think it would make her really happy. **

_So?_

**she loves me.**

_Okay, then don't wait? I don't know what you want me to say. You're pretty much arguing both sides for yourself, dude. :P_

**oh...**

Kyle didn't see any reason to continue talking, so he spun in his chair and kicked his legs up on his desk, eyes wandering back to that movie on TV. He watched it for fifteen minutes before his inbox 'binged' again.

**you there?**

Kyle sighed and dropped his feet from the desk.

_Yeah._

**so should i?**

_Uh, the decision is really yours to make._

**but i cant...**

_I don't even really know you, so I can't give you very good advice, you know? If you really need someone to ask, how about your best friend?_

**i can't do that either.**

_Uh-huh. And why not?_

**i think shed be mad at me.**

_Why?_

**i dunno. shes too mature for that stuff. shed say im being stupid or something**

_That's funny. XD_

**XD?**

_Uh, never mind. So, she's too mature? Why do you think that would make her mad at you?_

**trust me, she would be...**

_Well, she's your best friend. You know her better than I do. :-)_

**yeah, i guess. **

Kyle didn't reply; he'd turned back to watch the rest of the movie, when, lo and behold, he received another message.

**but that doesnt mean shes a bad friend or anything**

_Uh...yeah...if you think shed be mad, she's either a really good friend or just full of herself._

**maybe both? 8-)**

_Yeah, maybe. Either that, or she might be in love with you, dude._

**what? why?**

_Look...I'm not really good at knowing what goes on in girls' heads...I'm having girl trouble, too, right now._

**im sorry.**

_It's no big deal._

**hey, why would being mad make her be in love with me?**

_...Are you seriously asking me this?_

**sorry.**

_It's okay...look, I don't know exactly what's going on in your head right now, but I think maybe you should wait on that whole sex thing. Think about how you feel about your best friend before you do something like that, especially at this age...yeah?_

**how i feel about my best friend has nothing to do with doing it with my girlfriend.**

_Why don't you go back and read your messages? You seem pretty interested in what your best friend thinks, but the only thing you said about your girlfriend is that she loves you. I dunno, I just don't want to have to be here to hear about how you made a huge mistake, yadda yadda._

**wait, what?**

_Dude, I have to go. Just think about it._

Kyle closed the inbox. Talking to Mr. E was getting kind of annoying. Like, seriously annoying. He didn't want to say anything, but his stupid penpal was obviously smitten with that goddamn best friend of his. What was it, exactly, that could make someone so naive to his own feelings?

He yawned and then scowled as he realized he'd just missed the ending of the TV movie.

--

In an attempt to prove his penpal wrong about feeling something for his best friend, Stan had called Wendy that evening and gone over to her house.

"Stan!" She was pleasantly surprised to see him. The only thought running through Stan's mind as she let him in and snuck him up to her bedroom was 'Wendy is hot. Wendy is sexy. Wendy is beautiful. Wendy is hot.' And so on. The thoughts were rather conscious, and rather forced on Stan's part.

She'd dimmed the lights and then climbed atop him when he laid himself down on her bed, and they'd kissed for a while.

He'd turned the taller girl over and covered her lips rather fiercely with his own, sparking a strange sort of wonder in his girlfriend's mind. Stan had never been this determined. This felt, to her, like him trying to prove something.

"Stan," she'd moaned as he pulled up her shirt,

and the next thing he knew, Stan was stumbling out onto the Testaburgers' driveway. Her parents had caught them before anything could happen.

As he trekked away, down the snowy sidewalk, and gazed at the dark sky, he was surprised to find that he didn't really feel disappointed. Not even a little.

He felt...relieved.

-end ch3-

That...took a lot out of me. Sorry it wasn't that funny. I wish I could have avoided all the drama DX

PLEASE REVIEW. I'm being nice and submitting long chapters instead of a whole bunch of short ones just so I can get a billion reviews, so at least review the chunks that I do give you.

I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. D: And again, sorry if you think the plot's moving too fast.

(If I didn't make it clear enough, Stan's mood was worry about the Wendy-sex thing. It didn't have to do with the Am-I-gay? question. He's actually not really considering the am-i-gay thing yet, believe it or not. XD)


	4. An Unneccessary Commotion

OMG. It's so hard to type! I went outside for TWO minutes, and my fingers are frozen! Damn you, Michigan! Damn you with your 21-below-zero windchill! It's the coldest it's been since Christmas 2004, and school's out because of it! YAY! I get to write!

This story is exhausting me, but I enjoy it, so I have no qualms. X.x;

Unfortunately, I can't explain ALL weird behavior. Much of it is probably me being inconsistent. I'm a fabulously inconsistent person, you see. XD A lot of it, though, will be me using the lame-o excuse of 'everyone has idiosyncrasies' and 'everyone has out-of-character-moments.'

Yeaaah, so...I'm really, really thankful to all of you who are reading. Even more to those of you reviewing. You know, I'd love reviews. Even something small, like 'Update soon!' or 'I liked it' so that I know the hits on my story aren't just a bunch of people going OH Ick, I'm not going to read this.

IBB: I'm...really, really relieved that you like the long chapters. I was talking to someone the other day, and she made me realize...people are more likely to read a story with short chapters. WHY?! (sob) That's a little unfair, isn't it?! Okay, I'm done now. Yeah, I just never understood why people would write a slash story in which one starts thinking the other is cute and then lusts after him until he can't contain it anymore...to me, that just seems a little, well, fanficcy. I went through this sort of thing with my own best friend, and it really was more of an OH MY HEART! Thing. It wasn't like Whytf does my best friend look so hawt all of a sudden:B That's the kind of thing you'd either know all along or never really believe. XD yeah that right there actually did make sense, I swear.

Lilchicky004: _WILL STAN AND KYLE END UP LOVING ON EACH OTHER?_ Come on, girlie! It's a humor/ROMANCE. And I'm sure you can tell already, I'm a fan of happy endings, like some sort of retarded alls-well-that-ends-well valley girl. (so the answer is...?)

asteriskin': more Eric in this chapter JUST for you. (heart) I hope you like it. D:

Everyone else, **I love you** but I can't reply otherwise this A/N will become obnoxiously long. I'm going to have to reply to IBB every chapter just because of the sheer un-ignorable-ness of her MONSTER reviews (which I love XD) but I'll try to get back to everyone at some point.

**_Des, you bitch, you didn't review. (punch)_**

* * *

**************METhOD 04: An Unnecessary Commotion**

"I am the modern man who hides behind a mask so no one else can see my true identity. I'm just a man who needed someone – and somewhere to hide – to keep me alive!" –Styx

* * *

The next morning, Kyle was delighted to realize that Red was staying home from school, most likely having come down with something. Not that he wished sickness upon her, or anything like that. He didn't even dislike her either, per se. It was just...her absence was like a weight off his shoulders. He didn't feel the need to worry about his back being jumped on or kissed without his consent and with no warning...which was a pretty messed up thing to have to worry about, he knew, but it didn't matter. Facts were facts.

(Incidentally, the reason Kyle knew that she would be staying home was that she'd called his cell phone at 6 in the morning to ask him to bring her homework after school. She'd provided him with a detailed explanation of her schedule, complete with her personal opinion on each teacher and certain class members.)

It also helped that none of his friends seemed to be in any sort of particularly bad mood, which just made the day start out that much better.

"Ahh, what a great morning," Kyle declared as he reached the bus stop (the last one there, as always.) With an almost too-happy grin, he looked around at each of his friends.

"Hey, Ky," Stan nodded and sniffed a bit; the cold always made his nose run. Stan was, after all, the borderline always-sick-for-one-reason-or-another one of them.

"Yo," Kenny said with a short wave of his hand, and Cartman merely blinked at the Jew. He was wearing his gigantic headset and seemed more interested in his music than in the people around him. This was normal.

Kyle proceeded to rub his gloved hands up and down his cheeks, as if this friction would create any sufficient amount of heat. Still, one couldn't blame him for trying. It was dreadfully cold, and each one of the boys had a certain amount of masculine aloofness, however made-up it might be, that prevented him from ever holding hands or huddling together with the others

The bus came soon enough, and everyone was silently thankful for the warmth they got from 'having no choice but to' sit close to their friends.

Kyle was quite comfortable in his seat, sitting sort of diagonally with his legs in the aisle. Kenny had the aisle seat next to (across from) him, and Cartman was by the window on Kenny's other side.

"You look _healthy,_" Kyle said, poking fun at Kenny's sort-of pick-up line from last Friday, and then felt Stan shifting against his back. He smirked and smooshed the taller boy into the corner with his side.

"What the hell?" Stan complained, trying to push Kyle off him. But, he had to admit, Kyle was really warm.

Kyle ignored him, still looking at Kenny. "Come on over, there's plenty of room," he said. From behind him, they could hear Stan sniffling again. Poor Stan. "It's wa-arm."

"Retard," Kenny replied cheerfully, sliding into the space anyway. He was surprised at how much room Kyle had made for him, and then remembered Stan's position.

"Dude," Stan's muffled protest rose from halfway beneath Kyle's shoulder. "Do you mind?"

Kyle tried to make himself more compact, leaving room for Stan to sit somewhat comfortably. Kenny scooted over a bit and noticed Cartman staring at them in dry amusement.

"The Three Muskequeers," the brown-haired boy remarked thoughtfully.

Stan flailed a little and Kyle laughed noisily.

--

Stan and Wendy were leaving History together. Kyle beamed and ran up to them before they could get away.

"Helloo," he said, stopping right before them. "If I may say it, you two lovebirds look qui-te charming today. A regular fantasy couple."

Stan gave him a weird look while Wendy giggled.

"Uh, dude...what are you _on?_"

Kyle's face spread into a wide, sheepish smile. "Life, dude. Life."

"You really could learn a thing or two from Kyle," Wendy said to her boyfriend, biting her lip in amusement at Stan's annoyance.

"Whatever!" Stan declared. "See you later."

"Later!" Kyle kept smiling after them. Stan seemed disgruntled at Kyle's inexplicable gaiety (haw haw haw,) but that was just the usual Stan. Kyle knew it didn't actually bother him.

At the beginning of History, as the class was ushered off to the Media Center, Kyle began to feel a little bad about cutting off Mr. E the night before. Now that he was in such a good, friendly mood, he kind of regretted that he'd let the poor guy annoy him so.

He had three messages in his account inbox:

**wait, dont leave yet!**

And

**well...im going now. night**

and

**Hey, sorry if I was annoying last night. Your not going to ignore me now, are you??? If its ok I kind of want to keep emailing, so dont tell mrs. cox. Last night, my girlfriend's parents caught us before we could do it. Well i talked to her this morning, and I think she still wants to try. But I really dont know. Shes great and everything, but**

**oh crap have to go sorry **

Kyle frowned and clicked on 'reply.'

'But...?' 'But' _what?_

Kyle, interestingly enough, really wanted to know the rest of that sentence. In some way, it was just because he was in a personable mood, but he also had to admit that he felt sort of responsible for Mr. E. They had to be about the same age, but Kyle sort of felt like his mentor. Maybe even his friend, if one was to stretch.

As he typed his response, he couldn't help but wonder if Mr. E would be checking his messages again in the evening.

--

"Where's Red?" was the first thing out of Stan's mouth when Kyle sat down at their lunch table, alone.

Kenny peered at Kyle curiously, chewing on his jelly-smeared bagel. He also found it miraculous that Kyle had made it this far without a trace of the annoying extra baggage.

Kyle sighed heavily, a tired smile gracing his face as he threw his arms forward onto the table. He didn't really care that, in this motion, he'd knocked over Kenny's kiddie-sized juicebox and brushed against Stan. Stan subtly pulled himself away from the touch and then hummed expectantly.

"Well?"

Kyle drew himself back into a normal sitting position and leaned forward on the table.

"She's sick."

Stan snickered and Kenny smirked.

"So sad, Romeo," Stan said in a pretty annoying drawl. "Your heart must be breaking."

"Your _face_ will be, in a second," Kyle returned simply, and Kenny laughed, shaking his head to himself as he finished the first half of his jellygel.

"You do look lo-onely," Kenny muttered, joining Stan in poking fun at their short, red-haired friend. The blonde scooted into the empty seat across from Kyle (Red's usual seat) and made a pretend sympathy-face at him.

"Oh, Ky-Ky," he squeaked in a mock-Red voice and batted his eyelashes. "Want me to buy you a cherry slushie...?" He sighed dreamily; "Want _mine?_ Mmm, yummy."

"Eh," Kyle glared half-heartedly and Stan reached over to punch Kenny's shoulder in approval.

"That's perfect...you sound just like her," Stan declared, and Kyle stood suddenly.

"Oh my god, I just remembered!" He said, and Kenny and Stan both stopped to look at him.

"Huh? What?"

With an exaggerated laugh, he sat back down. "That you guys are assholes."

"..."

"I'm confused," Kenny whined, just now noticing that his juicebox had been knocked over. With a little frown, he picked it up and sucked the rest of the drink out.

"Hey," Stan said, settling again and turning to his best friend. He decided that he really did like it a lot better without having to worry about or listen to Wendy and Red (_especially_ Red.) Just him, Kyle, and Kenny. "You're not going to eat lunch?"

Kyle pursed his lips and gazed at the ceiling, folding his arms and resting his head on them. "I am hungry," he muttered. "Didn't grab anything this morning, though."

"Huh," Stan shrugged indifferently, then wondered: "that's weird; food is usually the first thing on your mind..."

Kyle laughed quietly and lifted his head, turning it so he could look at Stan while they talked. His friend really was quite funny, especially when he was a good mood like today's.

"Well, mom was freaking out this morning," he explained, and Stan nodded. Now it all made sense. Kyle continued: "I just wanted to get out of there before she found something more to yell at me about."

Stan glanced over and noticed Kenny was completely distracted by a table of cheerleaders across the room. He smiled a bit and then turned back to Kyle once he knew they were safe from scrutiny.

"Why was she yelling in the first place?"

Kyle sighed and his gaze traveled down to the hand Stan had loosely wrapped around his cup of fries. Cartman must be so jealous of those freakishly long piano fingers, thought Kyle. Stan had always been kind of long and gangly. Kyle noticed this because he, himself, was quite short.

"She was, you know, in one of those...moods," Kyle explained unclearly, distracted by Stan's fingers – which were now twitching nervously. Kyle, why are you staring at us?! "I think she was pissed off at Ike, and you know how she gets..."

Stan nodded, sticking four or five fries in his mouth when he noticed he'd accidentally stopped eating. Kyle's mom usually got pissed off for one reason or another and then start snapping at everybody for none whatsoever.

"I know, dude..." Stan sighed.

Kyle looked up and smiled in thanks.

"Hey!" Kenny interrupted, and they both looked at him, having forgotten he was even sitting there. It was really quite peaceful without Red around. "If you guys are," he cleared his throat; "_done_, could I get you to maybe talk to some people?"

Kyle sat up straight and lifted his eyebrows in interest while Stan snorted and started drinking his slushie (without a straw.)

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked, resting his face on his palm. Kenny smiled timidly.

"My PARTY, dude," he explained, as if it should have been obvious. Well, it really should've been.

Kyle's brows fell into his bored smile. "Anyone you had in mind?"

Kenny looked vaguely offended. "Come on, if it was somebody specific, _I_ could just talk to them. I'm just saying, spread the word for me."

"Hmm," Kyle shrugged. "Okay." He looked at Stan. "Gonna help, dude?"

Stan, not having been listening, was trying to lick stray slushie off the end of his nose. This was why it wasn't smart to drink that right out of the cup! Kyle giggled quietly and stepped on Stan's foot.

"Ow," the dark-haired boy glared at him. "What is it?"

"Kenny wants us to spread word of his kick-ass party."

"Oh!" Stan gasped sarcastically. "How exciting!"

"Well, thanks," Kenny carped.

And Kyle gave the blonde boy a sympathetic smile, as if apologizing for Stan's attitude.

"Sure, Kenny," he said softly. "We'll spread the word for ya."

"Kyle, you're such a girl," Stan teased, eyes trained on his drink. Stan didn't actually look to see it, but the _sound_ of Kyle's response was something like 'ptthhthtbbth.'

--

"Um...hey..."

"..."

"Eric? Uh? Eric?"

"..."

"ERIC! Don't ignore me!"

He stopped.

"Goddammit, WHAT do you want?!"

She frowned at him. What in the world kind of genes did you inherit that could make you this much of an asshole?

"Will you just stop for a second and let me talk to you?" Wendy asked him loudly, and he glanced around with angry, wide eyes, as if looking for an answer as to what in the world genes you could inherit that could make you so unable to take a fucking hint.

"Why do I need to talk to you?" He asked her, completely and totally annoyed. "Why do _you_ need to talk to _me?_"

She sighed and threw her hands up.

"You know what? You're an obnoxious asshole."

"So?" He started walking again, and she unfortunately followed at his side. "If you've only just realized that, then your head must have been up your ass-banging boyfriend's faggy butt longer than I thought."

Her pretty face twisted a bit. "Huh? What?"

"Is that all, then? Am I free to go?" His tone remained biting and sarcastic. She was certainly confused, but not about to back down.

"Wait, no." She put a hand on his shoulder and frowned quizzically, putting his comment about Stan aside for the time being. "Please, Eric. I just want to ask you something."

He shrugged, not looking the least bit pleased.

"Um," she continued. "Does Kenny McCormick live with you, or something?"

"Depends," he answered unreasonably. She bit her lip and tried not to yell at him.

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean it depends," he 'elaborated,' obviously wanting to be no help at all. It was probably intentional, Wendy realized. She scowled a bit as she followed him down the stairs and into the lunchroom. It seemed as if most first-lunchers were already gone. Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Red weren't there, in any case.

"Well..." Wendy tried a different approach. "Then...um, do you know if he's maybe mad at me about something?"

He glanced at her and then glanced away as he slid into his usual booth. The rush of kids for third lunch hadn't arrived yet, but it didn't matter to him; he never ate lunch anyway. He usually wrote.

She sat down across from him, uninvited. Did he always sit alone?

"I dunno. I try to pay as little attention to him as possible," he answered her honestly, his voice quieter now that he was focusing on his writing.

"...Why?" she wondered.

"Because Kenny," he stated matter-of-factly, "is a clingy, whiny lesbian who converts into a lethal weapon upon receiving attention from men." He glanced at her sharply. "_Straight_ men, that is. Why else do you think he only hangs out with – ?"

"Okay, okay," she interrupted, shaking her hands with an expression of utter mystification on her face. What the heck? "I get it, Eric."

"But _do_ you?" He sighed, and it was apparent now that he was just trying to get on her nerves so she would go away. "Do you, _really_?"

"Um," she replied articulately.

"Mm-hm," he nodded, frowning as he returned to his writing. "That's what I thought. Now please, my dear, if you would evacuate my goddamn booth."

So she did what she assumed that meant, walking off to join her usual lunch group. With Stan and Kyle as close of friends as they were, was _this_ Kenny's only real friend? How horrible. Perhaps he did have a reason to be bitter.

--

I suppose I should inform you beforehand that Biology was nothing short of utter chaos.

It all started when Mr. Inman began passing back the lab sheets from last Friday.

"Here you go. Good job," he said, handing Kyle his and Stan's lab.

Stan leaned over Kyle's shoulder as he walked into the room (he'd gone to the bathroom after lunch) and then sat down, eyes still on the paper.

"Hey, Stan," Kyle greeted his best friend with an exultant grin. "Twenty out of twen-ty!" He waved the paper happily, and Stan grabbed it, looking it over for himself.

"Of course," he said after a short moment. "I told you our kid would have straight hair. I was right."

Kyle frowned, insulted. "Dude, wait. That was just a judgment choice. It wouldn't have affected our grade if the kid had my hair genes." Kyle looked a little hurt, but Stan figured it was probably just his friend putting on those stupid airs of his.

"Uh, yeah. Suuure," Stan snickered, tossing the lab onto the table once he was done looking over it. "Either way, our kid kicked ass."

"And took names," Kyle added stupidly. Stan nodded in agreement. No matter how silly Kyle's jokes actually were, Stan always kind of thought they were cool anyway.

They shared a sweet little smile, and then came the defining moment. Bebe walked into the room, saw the two boys grinning stupidly at each other, threw her late pass at poor, unsuspecting Mr. Inman, left to get her monthly perm, not really, and marched right up to Kyle.

"Hey, Kyle," she said venomously, and Kyle was actually afraid. This was mostly because he hadn't expected to be attacked during Biology, of all things. The study of living things. He hoped he would still fit into the category by the time she was done.

"Miss Stevens," Mr. Inman started, but she hushed him with her hand. Thankfully, class hadn't exactly started yet, so most of the students were still chatting noisily amongst themselves.

"Bebe?" Stan wondered, leaving Kyle to silently recall the last notable encounter he'd had with her. He realized, as Stan greeted her confusedly, that he had never told Stan about what happened in the park on Saturday. Honestly, he just didn't want to get into that whole faggot thing. He wasn't sure if Stan could take something like that lightly, poor guy.

"Bebe, maybe you should –," Kyle started, but she wouldn't have it. She leered over him and then over his shoulder, glaring at Stan.

"You're disgusting," she pointed out to Stan, and his lips parted in surprise.

"Huh?"

"Disgusting!" She repeated, as if his confusion stemmed from an inability to hear.

"Um."

"Bebe," Kyle sighed, "Not here!"

"Dude...?" Stan looked at Kyle, who just shrugged anxiously.

"Well?" Bebe pushed her heavy glare upon Stan. "Well? Are you going to say anything, you...you..._you?_"

No swearing in school; especially not when the teacher is watching in total interest.

"Bebe," Kyle started calmly, standing. "There shouldn't be a problem. This has nothing to do with Stan..."

Her eyes rounded in disbelief. "Yes! Yes, it really does!"

Stan stood. She stepped toward him. Kyle glanced at the sky with a bowed head and sighed, pushing Bebe very gently away from Stan.

She spun to Kyle and hissed, looking like she might cry. "Don't touch me! Don't you TOUCH me!"

"Mr. Broflovski!" The teacher interrupted loudly. "Mr. Marsh! Bebe! Out in the hall!"

Oh, oh, no.

Whoops.

Out in that hall place:

"Explain. NOW."

"Wait!" Kyle nearly panicked. He took a deep breath. "No, no. It's not like that. I didn't – I didn't do anything like that – ! I swear."

Stan looked so damn confused, bless his heart. Inman calmed down a bit and then glanced at Bebe.

"Miss Stevens...?"

"Wh-at?!"

The teacher was taken aback, but he had the good sense not to be annoyed. He'd always expected this girl was histrionic. He was careful; he didn't want to end up being bitten, or anything. Yes, he'd actually been bitten by an angry student before...and lived. Always appreciate your teachers, seriously.

"Is there something I need to know about?"

She merely stomped on Kyle's foot, and Kyle groaned. "What the f--...ell?!"

The teacher lifted an eyebrow at Kyle. "Language, Broflovski."

He quirked his mouth apologetically.

"So," Inman started again, taking off his glasses, inspecting them, and then continuing: "can you answer now, Bebe?"

"...He's a faggot," she declared, as if this was a horrible offense.

Inman looked puzzled, Kyle looked irritated, Stan looked sick.

"Ah...wait," and then Inman set his glasses back on his nose, then frowned, then took them off again and inspected them and set them on his nose. Again. "Then, in the room, that wasn't about..."

"No!" Kyle gasped. "No, I didn't fu—reaking _rape_ her, godda—ngit!"

"Um!" Stan interrupted, glancing around wildly. "Mr. – Mr. Inman?!"

He turned to Stan, who looked somewhat green. "Yes?"

He shook his head, hands over his mouth. "I'm – I'm going to – I think I – !"

"GO!" The teacher said.

Stan was off.

Kyle covered his face with his hands and ran them down slowly, with a long sigh that sort of sounded like a growl.

"Bebe, you really didn't need to go there," Kyle said.

Mr. Inman seemed really pissed off. At his glasses, I mean, because he still hadn't stopped taking them off and inspecting them. As far as Stan, Kyle, and Bebe were concerned, the issue was already well beyond his control and care. He walked toward the room, which consisted of a now-silent set of nosy students who had been listening to the argument attentively.

"I want you two back in the room and quieted down in five minutes." He paused. "On second though, Broflovski, go on and check on Marsh..."

Kyle nodded and Bebe folded her arms huffily.

Bebe didn't seem to want the five minutes to make up with Kyle. She really just didn't want to make up with Kyle at all.

"Yeah, _Kyyle, _don't worry about me, just go on ahead and lick ass with your FAG-GOT boyfriend!" She screeched irrationally, stomping back into the room right on Mr. Inman's heels. Mr. Inman could be heard sighing and starting immediately with some science-related topic.

Kyle glanced into the room and noticed a lot of kids were staring at him in wonder. He shrugged and walked off in the direction he figured Stan might have gone. The bathroom, that is.

He really couldn't care less about what these kids thought about him, regarding his orientation. Seriously, most of them knew Bebe was a total psycho as far as things like this went, so he didn't even expect many of them to take her accusations to heart.

It was Stan's ego he was worried about. Poor, sensitive Stan.

Poor, sensitive, puking-on-the-floor-somewhere Stan.

Kyle frowned. Goddammit, he just didn't want to deal with this right now!

--

As you would have it, Stan had already signed himself out and gone home sick. Sorry, no super cute moments of comfort and love in the school bathroom _this_ time. I wish, though.

--

After school sometime:

"On this waahhn—draaaahhs seaaaa..."

"Sailing sahhhh---leeent-leeeee."

"Knoooo-est thou thaaaa shooooore?"

"Hoooooo..."

_Oohhh! _

"Piiii...looooot…"

_Ooohh, ohh! Ohh, yes!_

"Knooooo-est thou thaaa shooore?"

"Where no breeakaaahs—roaaaar?"

_Ooh!_

"Where the stooorm is ooooooer?"

_AHH! Oh! Oh, ye-!_

"...KENNY!!!!!"

_Ahh, ahh! Yes! Yes, oh, baby..._

"KEN-NAAAAY!"

"WHAT? WHAT IS IT?!"

"KENNY, GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!"

Pounding (lol) could be heard as Kenny dashed up the stairs, wondering what in the world was wrong. He hated to anger Eric.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked breathlessly.

Eric stood before him, looking severely angry and clutching a score of choral music in one hand while the other clenched into a fist.

"How the fuck," he heaved, pointing to the computer with his free hand; "do you turn off the goddamn porn?"

Kenny stared at him with wide eyes, and then his attention flew to the computer.

"Oh, shit!" He burbled, rushing over and following the complicated (...) process of getting rid of full-screen videos. "I'm sorry. Crap, I'm sorry..."

"Kenny..."

"I'm really sorry about that," Kenny laughed sheepishly, sending a lot of nervous glances Eric's way. "It...won't happen again."

Eric's face was like, totally red. "Damn right it won't! You're NOT allowed in this house anymore!"

Kenny's face fell. "What?"

"...For the rest of the week!" Eric elaborated, realizing the nature of his words.

The blonde glanced to the side. "I..."

"I NEED to focus on this, Kenny. This is a BIG festival. The judges will be the HARDEST I have EVER had to face, and I DO NOT NEED PORN ON WHILE I'M TRYING TO PRACTICE!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Pfah! Don't you have a girl to be eating?"

"Eric..."

"Oh, that's right; you're single. If you need a quick shot, though, I'm sure Wendy will provide."

"What?" Kenny blinked in surprise.

Eric took a few breaths and then looked indifferently to his music.

"Go on, you goddamn lesbian. I just told you Wendy is looking for someone to have a PMS party with; why aren't you more excited? Get the hell out so I can PRACTICE!"

Off he went, afeared for his life! Eric sure does have issues.

--

Sometime earlier, Stan had been lounging around his house. He'd puked after that incident just from anxiety, but he'd claimed he was actually sick so that he could go home and veg.

He also hadn't felt like talking to anyone. Not Kyle, not Kenny, not Wendy.

Or, you know, anyone else that he might have talked to, but they never really matter, do they?

Interestingly enough, the first thing he'd done was to check his history account inbox.

_Hey. Nah, you weren't being annoying. Sorry I left so quickly, but I really did have to go. I'm not going to ignore you._

_So...you didn't listen to me when I told you to think before doing it? Wow, I feel so good about myself now. 8-) Anyway, judging by your attitude about her wanting to try again, I think it's a good thing they caught you guys. DON'T TRY AGAIN, YOU OBVIOUSLY SHOULDN'T! OH, so are you not allowed to date her anymore or something? I bet her parents were ticked._

_What were you going to say? ...I'm actually just thinking straight out of my head right now. I'm in such a great mood for no reason. Don't expect me to make any sense, hahaha:-)))_

_By the way, how's the chess thing going? Your best friend confess her love for you yet? How much should I bet that the rest of your sentence was going to have something to do with not wanting to disappoint your dear best friend?_

_In a great mood,_

_TOD_

Stan just kind of sat back and stared in awe.

Actually, that had kind of been what the sentence he'd never finished was going to say...

Shaking his head and lightly smacking his cheek, he rested his head on his desk and thought about it. Hard.

This whole Kyle-being-a-girl thing had taken on a lot of really creepy angles. There was that pretending-Kyle-was-a-girl-in-emails thing. Then there was that Kyle-could-look-like-a-girl thing. Then there was that whole if-Kyle-was-a-girl-would-I-date-her thing.

And now, ta-da! A totally confusing addition:

If I would date girl-Kyle, then would girl-me date guy-Kyle? What would a gender switch really mean?

Because when he thought about girl Kyle, he just thought about...Kyle. Being a girl. But Stan ideally assumed Kyle's personality wouldn't change at all as a girl, so wouldn't it just be Kyle with boobs? Hm...girl-Kyle had a pretty nice rack! She also had these really pretty greenish-grayish-brownish (dammit, which is it?!) eyes that weren't just physically pretty, but pretty because they showed that she really _cared_ about him.

They kind of...looked exactly like guy-Kyle's eyes.

And...Stan's mind's eye traveled downward. A plate of pasta! Parmesan!

I'm hungry...

Stan lifted his head and gazed at his computer screen tiredly. It was 1:24.

He decided not to reply to TOD, but he was suddenly quite happy after reading the letter. Happiness really was infectious, he decided, because there was no reason for these new, weird-o thoughts to be _psyching him out_.

If anything, they should have just depressed him. But he didn't feel like being depressed.

He was just hungry. He wished he hadn't tossed his lunch up.

--

_Deen-dan-deen-daaan. Deen-doon-dan-deen!_

Stan looked up at the sound of the rather-annoying doorbell. His parents were home, so he didn't bother leaving his room to answer the door. He returned his attention to Chess for Dummies.

"Huh!" he muttered to himself as he finished the third chapter of the chess-playing guide. "That's interesting..."

Honestly, he still didn't get _any_ of it.

"_Stan! Kyle's here!"_

Slamming the book shut and sliding it across the floor and under his bed, Stan stood and went downstairs.

"Stan!" Kyle greeted from the base of the stairs as his friend hopped on down. "I thought you were sick?"

"I _was_," he replied, smiling secretively. Kyle blinked, then smirked.

"Sly dog," Kyle nodded his approval. "Are we still hanging at my place, then?"

"Mm-hm," Stan nodded back and turned. "MOM! DAD! I'm going out!"

"Not with Wendy, I hope," his mother said, walking into the room with a dangerous smile as Stan shrugged into his coat.

He bristled anxiously. "Naw, mom..."

Kyle glanced at Stan as they left the house and traveled down the walk. "What was that about?"

"Mmnnrrrf," Stan replied broodingly, sniffling almost immediately as the cold hit his nose.

Kyle's reddish-brown eyebrows rose expectantly. "Stan...?"

"Nmmh?"

"You know you can tell me anything?"

"Whatever," Stan replied with a cheerful sniffle, and Kyle was a bit taken aback. Stan was cheerful? For NO reason?

"Okay," he cleared his throat and smiled, "well, Kenny and me have already sorta broken in Zombie Hunt Data Five...but!" He paused dramatically; "I did not let anyone touch the clear controller. I promised not to let anyone but you have it, yeah?"

Stan sniffled and smirked. "It's mine anyway, dude..."

Kyle nodded. "Exactly. I protected it with my life. Kenny wanted to use it, but I said – NO! You absolutely may not touch the exalted controller of clearness! It is a legendary weapon only wielded by - !"

"Jesus Christ, shut up!" Stan laughed. "You're such a retard!"

"I know!" Kyle replied, amazed. "I just forget it, sometimes. You're a real pal for reminding me, though. Thanks, buddy."

Stan felt kind of bad.

--

And then, it was Kyle's turn to feel bad.

"This really sucks," the redhead complained as he led Stan upstairs, to his room. After fifteen minutes of arguing with Ike and the stupid friend Ike had brought over with no prior notice, Kyle and Stan eventually lost custody of the game console. Now they were left with nothing to do.

"Yes," Stan sighed. "It does. But...whatever, dude."

"Yeah-hm," was Kyle's bored response. "I'll find something else for us to do, though..."

Stan shut the bedroom door and shrugged. "You'd better! You're the one who dragged me out here!"

Kyle laughed nervously and stood there, looking around his room for a bit. It was quite clean.

"Hey, dude? What's the time?" Kyle wondered.

Stan looked down to his watch. Oh...that's right! Stan doesn't wear a watch.

"Don't you have a clock?" He wondered, and Kyle grunted 'oh yeah.' It was about 4:00.

"Alright," Kyle decided, throwing himself down on his small bed. Lying on his stomach, he occupied himself by chewing lightly on the bedspread, which left Stan to stare at him for a moment.

"Uh, so." Stan sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs. "What do you want to do?"

"I'nno," Kyle said, turning his head to look at Stan. Unfortunately, all he could see was Stan's back.

Eventually, and following a long sequence of grunts and mutters and Whaddya wanna do?s, they ended up lying together, going at it.

By 'it,' I mean tic-tac-toe, of course. What did you think I meant?

"Mm," Kyle hummed as he marked his 'x' on the wrinkled paper sitting on the bed in front of them. They were lying on their stomachs, side-by-side, squished close together on the small bed. Their shoulders were fighting for dominance. "Your go."

Stan yawned and sleepily marked down his 'o.' He shifted a bit, wiping sleepy tears from his eye with his free hand. "Go."

Kyle reached out and marked his 'x.'

"Tie," he sighed.

Stan scratched out a fresh playing board for them in an empty corner of the page. The idea of tic-tac-toe-ing had been to keep tying each other (what two people with half a brain wouldn't tie every time?) until one of them got so bored or tired of it that a mistake would be made and somebody finally could win.

"So," Kyle said, marking 'x' in the middle square, to which Stan huffed.

"Yeah?"

o.

"What would you think if I really did go out with Red?"

"Uh..."

x.

Stan glanced quickly at Kyle then returned his gaze to the sheet in front of them. They were really close together; he could practically see Kyle's brain through his ear. (Not really.)

"I dunno..._are_ you guys going out?"

Kyle shrugged and Stan could feel it in their squished-together shoulders.

o.

"Huh? Is that a yes?"

x.

o.

x.

"Nope...I was just over there to drop off her homework and she asked me for an answer. I told her to wait a little..."

"Hmm..."

"What do you think, dude? Should I?"

o.

x.

"...Tie..."

Stan scratched out another playing board.

o.

"I don't really care. Do you even like her that much?"

Kyle paused mid-x.

"Hmm...maybe. Sorta..."

x.

o.

x.

o.

"Dude."

"...Dude."

x.

o.

x.

o.

"...T-"

"Don't."

Kyle shifted.

"...What?"

Stan ducked his head slightly. "I mean, uh...you shouldn't date her if...you don't _really_ like her for sure, you know?"

Kyle slowwwwly scratched out a new playing board.

Then he turned his head a bit, staring at Stan's ear, then Stan's nose when Stan turned his head to look at him, too.

Kyle pursed his lips and smiled a bit, lifting his purple marker uncomfortably (there wasn't a lot of moving room) to mark an 'x' on Stan's nose.

Stan frowned, staring at Kyle's nose. Should he return the favor?

"Don't even think about it, dude," Kyle said, reading his mind. He laughed softly.

Stan shrugged, causing Kyle's connected shoulder to shrug along with his. He looked to Kyle's eyes.

Definitely green.

No, brown- no, green –

"Aw," Stan said to himself, frustrated with the colour. Kyle smiled, half-anxious, half-amused.

"Dude," he said. This unbreaking eye contact made Kyle rather nervous. He closed his eyes and leaned his head slightly away, but Stan made a throaty noise and leaned closer –

"KYLE!!!"

Stan and Kyle both jumped, and Stan's body threw itself off the bed, rolling onto the floor in a panic. Kyle stared at his closed door with wide eyes.

"KYLE!!"

"WHAT?" He called back. It was only his mom's voice, calling him from downstairs.

"YOU HAVE A FRIEND AT THE DOOR!"

Confused, Kyle stumbled off the bed, sending Stan's still-shock-frozen body a quick glance before he scratched his bottom lip and went out to see who it was.

"Kenny?"

And, back up in Kyle's room, Stan just lied on the floor, heart pounding; confused.

-end ch4-

D: I'm sleepy. I hate Spanish class. I also hate how random that last bit there was, but hey...I wanted something to happen, so it did... LOL

What I love, though, is how the NFL sent all the pre-printed Bears-win-the-super-bowl t-shirts to Africa. That's like the cutest thing ever right now. I also love how this fic has gotten so much of my attention that I've lost like a billion pounds from not eating. LOL I LOOK SO PRETTY TT

PLEASE REVIEW! And comment on how retarded Bebe is! I think she and Red are the worst characters in this story. They're the least believable, but hey...I had to have some sort of catalysts. Notice how they've mostly been the catalysts so far? Yeah, I suck at plot development that way.

And also, check out my Deviantart, under the same name (style-xx) I've posted a lot of stuff, lately, and I'd be happy to get some comments :x

I LOVE YOU, READER 8D


	5. The Unexpected Instigator

HELLO! Welcome back to my domain:D

REALLY LONG CHAPTER AHEAD. SORRY FOR THE DELAY

I'm really, REALLY in love with my reviewers right now. :'D I realize my story isn't nearly the most popular thing on this site, but you guys make me feel a lot better about it. Each and every one of you is a total doll, and I wouldn't trade any one of your reviews for a BILLION reviews from someone else.

Broken-SilverWings: Thank you for finally reviewing! It made me so happy to hear you've been reading since the beginning. :D

asteriskin': The long chapters! I just can't avoid them! And I'm sure Eric would be glad to hear you love him so much, though he'll never admit it...XD

Ren85: YOU'RE RIGHT, I THINK HE TOTALLY WAS. (yeah I was pissed at Kenny, too! D:)

IBB: Yes, that's why he was leaning in. (giggles as well) Oh! I'm so glad you didn't stop your review halfway, I would have died. XD And yeah, I love writing the lunch scenes so much, if you haven't noticed...lunchtime seems to be the (half-)hour of truth. All is revealed about the characters during it. You CAN'T lie to lunch! ...Yeah. So anyway, I love you :D And come back soon!

Zakuyoe(ch2): Sorry, I thought in the first chapter I explained that Cartman isn't grossly obese at this time. Just chubby :D But not so much that his fat can squish piano keys O.o; I have a fat friend who plays piano, and his weight dun hinder him much, either. Thanks for returning, though!

Canadian At Heart: No problem. Thank you

PhoenixII: Thank you so much for reviewing every chapter, and so fast! I really like you for it (heart) And YEAH! I know! Stan's thoughts are so silly! XD

LilChicky004: You make me SMILE uncontrollably with your kind words! Nghhh. I like youuu. AND I'm happy someone commented on the chess thing XD

NGHHGNNGHN. REALLY REALLY LONG CHAPTER AHOY and dude...it's seriously going to be dramatic...like, RETARDEDLY dramatic. I need to change this to HumorDrama or RomanceDrama.

* * *

**METhOD 05: The Unexpected Instigator**

"_(no comment)" –a wise man

* * *

_

To follow up directly, Stan had been lying on the floor for five minutes before he again heard the gentle creak of Kyle's door.

He merely lied there, staring at the ceiling, until Kyle spoke:

"Hey...dude, what, uh...what are you doing?"

Stan sat up a bit too quickly and winced; head rush. Yawning behind a closed mouth, he ran a hand through his messed black hair and blinked up at Kyle.

"Sorry. Uh, yeah." There was Kenny, he noticed, standing behind Kyle and looking half-embarrassed and half-bewildered. Stan tried to smile, and it came out quite mechanically. "Uh, hey, Kenny. You, uh…what's up?"

Kenny's bright blues peered at Stan inquisitively. "Hey. Just came by. Eric kicked me out, so...yeah."

Stan 'hmm'ed, looking distracted. He stood up. "So, I guess you guys want to talk, or whatever. I'll go..."

"Nah, wait." Kyle said, fast. He frowned. Stan seemed a little...off, and Kyle had a pretty good idea as to why. He suddenly felt really bad for everything – he felt sort of guilty. After all, he – the one who had suggested they play tic-tac-toe on the bed in the first place – was the one responsible for...whatever that had been, back there.

(Jeeves: An event in which two individual's heads are close together and one of said individual's lips get dangerously near to the other's, often for a specific reason.)

"Hmm...?"

"It's fine, dude; stay." Kyle's eye seemed to twitch. "Unless you want to go."

Stan hesitated for a moment, then he decided he'd sit down, after all. "Ahkay."

Meanwhile, Kenny stood there, staring blankly at a meaningless spot on the floor and trying to figure what was going on. He was listening very closely, and this didn't sound like Kyle and Stan at all.

Something was definitely wrong...

"Cool," Kyle shrugged, sitting at his desk and gesturing for Kenny to settle in however and wherever he wished. The blonde, however, didn't move.

"Actually," he muttered, scratching his arm; "I kind of wanted to talk to Kyle..."

Stan pursed his lips indifferently, standing back up. There was an eagerness in that movement that he couldn't quite mask from the other boys' notice.

"Then I'll see you guys later."

Kyle cleared his throat. "Stan."

The taller boy turned a bit, and Kyle continued:

"...Sorry, dude."

Stan's face did something kind of weird before he sent his so-called super-best-friend a not-so-super-best sort of smile.

"What're you talking about, dude? There's nothing to be sorry for..." He laughed. "Stop smoking whatever you're smoking, okay? See ya, Kenny."

Kyle and Kenny both watched, bewildered, as Stan left with a bizarre, uncharacteristic grin stretching his face.

Kenny turned to the redhead. "Is something up...?"

Kyle shot him a narrow-eyed, pensive look.

"Yeah," he answered. "But don't ask what. I don't really think I can explain."

"Well, that's fine."

Kenny stood there, uncomfortable, as Kyle stared at him for a long while.

"I..." the blonde started, trying to move the conversation along. "Kyle, I..."

Kyle, finally coming back down to the 'conscious' plane, smiled encouragingly and rested his face in the palm of his hand, elbows on his desk. "Is it about Cartman?"

It actually took Kenny a moment to acknowledge the question. Mostly, he just looked a bit puzzled that Kyle had brought him up – and then Kenny remembered that associating him with Eric really wasn't such a strange thing, at all. Stan and Kyle, Cartman and Kenny. Cartman and Kenny, Stan and Kyle. Remember?? Man, he must really have been tired.

"Kind of. I guess." Kenny rubbed his eyelids with his thumb and index finger, walking over to where Stan had been sitting and taking the seat.

Kyle scooted back and propped his legs up on his desk, folding his hands together over his abdomen and leaning the chair back on its two back legs. The wall was right behind him, so he wasn't in danger of falling backwards.

"You know," he said just as he was taken by a rather obnoxious yawn; "You don't have to be so..." He turned his head a slight to watch his silent friend. "You know I'm not gonna bite you just for talking, right?"

Kenny smirked and threw himself back on the bed with a sigh. "What if I's t'call you a stupid Jew?"

"I wouldn't suggest it," Kyle frowned, "but whatever. I can't really stop you, poor boy."

They shared a quiet laugh, but Kyle couldn't help wishing Stan were still there.

"So, my friend!" Kyle clapped his hands together and dropped his feet, coming back forward. "What did you need?"

"Uh...well," Kenny, chewing on his lower lip, looked at the shorter boy standing partway over him. "I kinda...need a place to stay."

Kyle huffed. "Huh?!"

"Just for the week."

"Ah...well?" Kyle's eyes widened a bit. "So what, you were thinking of crashing here?"

Kenny nodded, still chewing on his lip. "...Yeeeeah...Was it a bad idea?"

"Naw," Kyle laughed. "It's not gonna be convenient, you know," and Kenny smiled bitterly, "but I don't think my mom would really care too much. Whyd'ja get kicked out, though?"

Kyle had the good sense not to ask why Kenny hadn't just gone back to his actual home. There were certain things he knew never to approach, and that had always been one of them. After all, what kind of home and family did you have to come from that you come away conditioned to handle dying every day?!

Kenny sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it, man. Eric was just being..."

"Oh yeaah, I know how Cartman is." Kyle laughed good-naturedly and clapped Kenny on the shoulder, helping the boy back into a sitting position. "In that case, how can I refuse?"

Kenny nodded. "This's real cool of you, Kyle."

Kyle shrugged. "We are friends, in case you forgot." He sounded a bit offended, but, again – it was just putting on airs. Kyle was fond of them. "C'mon, though, giddup; you're still gonna need to explain yourself to my mom."

"Oooh..." Kenny murmured in falsified excitement. "Can't wait."

And Kyle snorted. "Your own fault, dude."

--

Because Wendy was so used to Stan's usual manner of weirdness, it was actually a notable concern that something was different about him.

Sure, he was a bit of a spaz, but he was the kindest-hearted guy she knew. Sooo, Wendy liked to flirt with guys. So, she was a bit loose with her affection. It didn't make her a bad person, and, despite her interest in much of the male half of their race, she would never, ever cheat on her boyfriend.

She loved him as much as a teenaged girl could possibly love anyone, really.

That's why it kind of bugged her to talk to him when he sounded so...depressed. She was honestly dying to know what had happened to make him this distracted and incoherent, but Stan wasn't the kind of guy who liked to hear about his own problems.

He was more the kind of guy who pretended he didn't have real problems by justifying them in weird-o ways.

"Uh-huh," she said for like the fiftieth time, as Stan continued to complain into her ear through her cell. He seemed to finally be through with blaming his mood on the supposed fact that his sneakers were torn. Now, it was something else, and she was kind of falling asleep. What? The sound of his voice was very soothing, like a lullaby, and his subject matter was certainly boring enough.

"Yeah, that sucks," she agreed to whatever he was complaining about this time. "I'm sorry, baby."

His voice suddenly stopped coming, and all she could hear were his heavy breaths.

"Stan...?"

Stan sighed on the other end. "I need to go to the bookstore..."

Without her own prompting, her lips curved upward. "Is that an invitation or a goodbye?"

"Umm." She could just imagine the cute look of confusion screwing his face up. "I...guess I was thinking you'd come with."

"Hm-hm-hm," she chuckled. "Alright."

"Thanks," Stan sighed again. "Your place is on the way, so I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay," she agreed, smacking her lips at her reflection. "I love-"

But he'd already hung up. She frowned idly and starting tossing stuff into her purse.

It was a surprisingly short ten minutes before he showed up at her home. He was too afraid to knock or ring the bell, as he wasn't exactly on good terms with the elder Testaburgers. He just stood out there, looking like a lost puppy, and stared dumbly at Wendy's window until she saw him.

"Mom, dad...I'm going to the bookstore," she said, and they let her go without question. Well, it was true.

"Hiii," she whispered happily, linking their hands and starting along the walk. He smiled at her briefly, looking just as haunted as he'd sounded. She really wanted to know what had happened. "How are you?"

"Fine," he said, and only looked at her when she squeezed his hand. He blinked slowly and unevenly, exhausted for all he was worth.

She frowned. "Sweetie, there's something wrong, isn't there?"

He jerked a bit and looked at her. "Um."

"...Stan," she sighed as they walked along. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Gosh, thought Stan. Everybody was interested in talking lately. Kyle wants to know about what happened with Wendy; Wendy wants to know about what happened with Kyle (no she doesn't, dummy...she's just worried about you.)

He didn't like it when they bothered asking about one another. It reminded him too much of how, in the end, he really did kind of have to pay more attention to either his girlfriend or his best friend, and he couldn't have it both ways. He couldn't make everybody happy...but why couldn't he...just...have two separate lives? One for Wendy, and one for Kyle?

'Why,' indeed.

Without realizing it, he'd just neglected to answer her, so she dropped the issue in assuming he really didn't want to talk about anything. They said nothing more until they got close to the bookstore. Stan wondered casually whether or not they'd recognize him there. The time he'd gotten Kyle and himself kicked out hadn't been so long ago, really. Only just that past Saturday.

"There it is," she said, swinging their connected arms playfully. She glanced at him to see his reaction; glad to see there was at least a bit of a smile in his handsome profile.

"Yup," he replied. They walked in.

It was apparent that Wendy was determined to figure her boyfriend's issues out by the end of their trip. She didn't bother to ask why Stan, having come here to buy Huck Finn, was staring blankly at the comics rack on the opposite side of the store, but she wasn't going to leave him alone.

"Hmm..." she reached out and picked up some issue of a comic with an interesting piece of cover art, flipping it open and pretending to read the inside cover. "So, have you talked to Shelly lately?"

"Huh?!" He blinked, hard. Then he smirked. "Nooo...she never calls us, remember?"

She looked up and gave it a sheepish shrug as Stan returned his attention to the comics. "Oh, yeah."

"...Ohh...I was reading this one the other day..."

Not listening to his muttering, Wendy leaned back and continued: "So, hey; what's Kyle up to these days?"

Stan froze, just for a short moment, but it didn't go unnoticed by his girlfriend. She cocked a dark eyebrow just as he forced himself to relax.

"Uh-m." He cleared his throat. "I, I guess he's, um fine? Yeah, I dunno..."

"Uh-huh...?" She pursed her lips and nudged his ankle gently with her foot. "Hey, why don't you go grab Huck Finn now, mm?"

He put the comic down and followed her advice, looking kind of freaked out; like a druggie going through withdrawal. Wendy didn't say anything, but...

Oh, Kyle, she thought. What did you do to Stan?

"Hey," Wendy said when they were over by the literature. "...Isn't that..."

Okay, so she didn't say anything more, but she did notice: Eric was in the bookstore! How strange. What was he reading?

She didn't really have the opportunity to go over and check. Her boyfriend needed a lot of attention and love right now; she could tell.

You know, she was probably right that he needed attention, but maybe not from the person she thought.

"Find it?" She asked Stan, watching Eric curiously out of the corner of her eye. What? She was just interested to know what kind of things assholes liked to read.

Stan, distracted as he was, really didn't notice that she was looking at someone else as she spoke to him. "Mm...yeah, I think." Being rather tall, he easily reached the novel he was looking for. Pulling it out, he flipped it over in his hand and saw that he had the right one.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go."

She didn't end up catching what Eric was reading.

Once Stan had paid for his book, Wendy poked his side and he looked at her oddly.

"Let's sit at the café for a while," she suggested, nodding in the direction of the in-store coffee shop.

"...Okay."

Wendy, by now, was getting very uncomfortable. Obviously, Kyle had done something (or had to do with something that had been done) to her boyfriend, and it was making him act more distant than she could ever remember him being. When she had her coffee and had set Stan's requested hot chocolate before him, she sat down at the small, two-person table.

"Alright, Stan," she sighed heavily. "I'm not sure if I can do this anymore."

He looked up quickly and gave her a rather forced look of shock. "Are you...are you, like...breaking up with me?"

"..."

He looked down, embarrassed.

"Stan...I'm not breaking up with you," she said, speaking with an uncertain sort of tenderness. "I just want to know what's wrong. Something IS wrong; it's kind of obvious, honey," she added, before he could deny it.

Stan remained silent, and she shook her head.

"Sweetie...are you worried about the...you know..."

He glanced at her warily and she quirked an eyebrow suggestively. Ohhh, right. That.

"I...I'm sorry about last night," he said. "I think...it's...maybe a good thing that they caught us, though."

She 'hmm!'ed in surprise. "Seriously?"

"I'm sorry," he murmured, turning to look at the wall.

"No, no!" Her voice had taken on a higher pitch. "I'm just surprised; I...the only reason I kept suggesting it was because I thought -"

His brown eyes traveled over to her, boring into her expectantly. She laughed, discomfited.

"Um, I just thought that was what you wanted," she lied, then admitted a more honest reason: "You were getting distant, and..."

"Oh," he said. "It wasn't...I didn't, really..."

"Heyyy, are you trying to make me feel bad?"

Stan blinked rapidly. "No, no, no, no. Sorry."

She smiled at him. "You know, you apologize too much."

He merely shrugged.

"So, you don't really want to...?"

"Heck no! Not anymore!" She said happily, then laughed at herself. She hadn't meant to sound so relieved, but she was also glad they hadn't done it...it probably wouldn't have brought Stan as close to her as she'd assumed, if even at all. And it wasn't that having sex with Stan would have been horrible, but she'd realized, the night before, that maybe she wasn't as ready for it as she thought.

"I really am sorry, though," he muttered. She was hopeful; he was starting to act a little more like himself. "I've just...got a lot of things going on, and it's not fair to you, and..." he paused, looking up like he'd been shocked. "Wait, I didn't know I was acting distant!" he said loudly, looking like he might panic. "Was it...to everybody, or just you?!" Subconsciously, he was trying to work out a particular issue that he didn't care to discuss up front.

"Aw...honey." She leaned over and pecked his lips quickly. "You're so sweet. Don't worry about me."

He smiled after a time and nodded, and it was such a beautiful smile in Wendy's opinion, but it was only a matter of minutes before his eyes clouded back over and he'd started drifting back off with that troubled frown.

Oh, well...it was the best she could do.

--

A dark alley somewhere:

"New rule, man. I need immediate payment from now on, or I can't supply you anymore."

"O-Oh!"

"So...do you have the money?"

"I – ACH! Ye-es!"

"...Very good. Hold on..."

"THANKS!"

"SHH! Goddammit, keep it down! Do you want the cops to catch us?!"

"I'm sorry – ACH!"

Glancing once to the left, and once to the right, Craig covertly slipped the twitching maniac his miracle drug.

"Same time tomorrow..." was what the blue-hatted boy hissed before flipping him the bird and then slipping away. Tweek nodded, twitched, and clutched the little plastic baggy of ground coffee beans to his chest. Ever since his parents stopped letting him drink the stuff, he'd started smoking and inhaling the powder in secret. I'm not entirely sure if this is possible, but he sure as hell did it anyway.

Elsewhere, Bebe was lying in bed, seething, Red was also lying in bed, looking at a picture of Kyle in the yearbook, and Token and Clyde were on the roof of Token's house, tossing expensive things into the river for fun. Incidentally, Clyde would probably slip, fall, and break his arm in five or six minutes from the time.

Just thought I'd let you know what everyone else was up to, in case you were, like, wondering. This is pretty much unrelated to everything else I'm planning to write about.

--

"Phew...good job, man." Kyle laughed and threw his arm around Kenny's shoulders, resting a great deal of his weight on the other boy. "You sure know how to work the poor-boy image. I think my mom was about to cry."

"Ha," Kenny laughed back, a bit more tiredly. "Whatever...I still have to go back to Eric's on Saturday."

Kyle removed his arm from Kenny's shoulders as they entered his room and the blonde boy closed the door. "Hm! Oh, yeah - I've been telling people to come to your party." He sat on his bed and looked at Kenny. "You sure you're prepared, dude?"

Kenny smiled brightly, and Kyle noticed his friend kind of needed braces. But where would he have gotten the money to afford some? He felt a little bad; he knew most kids (especially Kenny) were hardly as well off as he was, but he never really...thought about it this close to home. Was it bad that he kind of ignored Kenny that way? Was it bad that he left his friend to the care of goddamn Eric Cartman, of all people?

But Cartman did seem to love Kenny in his own twisted-as-fuck rite, if one could excuse Kyle for thinking so. Or maybe Kyle just wanted to think that in order to keep from feeling like a bad friend.

He did tend to feel responsible for his friends.

"Absolute-ly," Kenny declared, pumping his fist into the air stupidly, then laughing at himself. "Dude, I've been getting people talking about it everywhere." He widened his eyes for emphasis; "There are SO many people coming, I know it."

Kyle thought for a moment, leaning his weight back on his arms. "Hm...are you gonna be able to plan it okay without being at Cartman's?"

"...I think I can convince him to let me back," Kenny muttered, looking worried. "Maybe not to stay the night like usual, but he's gotta let me go over sometime. Besides, that's pretty much my home. All my clothes are there..."

Kyle nodded and nodded and nodded as Kenny went off (probably without realizing it) on stuff entirely unrelated to Kyle's original query. He didn't say anything though, figuring that Kenny needed to get these things off his chest. Somehow, he didn't see Cartman as being a good confidant for the blonde.

After a good twenty minutes, Kenny seemed to recognize what he was doing, and he stopped talking all at once, smiling sheepishly. Kyle snorted and stood, reaching up to tousle Kenny's hair.

"So, I'm going to make you feel at home," the redhead said, smirking at Kenny's mortified (mortified...how ironic) grunt. Kyle went over to his computer and jiggled his mouse, bringing the monitor alive. "I'm assuming you're going through a porn withdrawal right about now..."

"Ngh!" Kenny made a peculiar noise in his throat and glared at him. "Whatever, dude! I'm not that bad!"

"Uh-huhhh," Kyle chuckled. "I know some good sites, though..."

Kenny's face changed to a look of complete interest. "You do?"

Kyle scrunched his nose up. "I was kidding."

"You seriously don't watch porn?" Kenny wondered, sounding altogether too innocent for the nature of his inquiry.

"I've given it a try..." Kyle admitted, looking a little annoyed. "It didn't really seem that great."

Kenny pulled a chair from the other side of the room over, sitting down next to Kyle. He set his elbow on the desk and rested the side of his face in his hand, boredly.

"Tried gay porn, too?"

"It's all porn, dude." Kyle punctuated his sentence with a sour smile.

Kenny laughed. "I guess. So, have you?"

"Yep," and Kyle made it sound as nonchalant as he could.

Kenny seemed genuinely surprised. "Uh...are you serious?"

"Yeah, so what?"

The blonde boy smiled, and Kyle wondered how the hell such a pervert could have such a sweet little smile. It's always the quiet ones, he reminded himself.

"Well, what did you think?"

Kyle shrugged. "Same. Nothing special. I just don't like..." and he glanced to the side at Kenny's pixie smile, which was now looking more like a leer. "...porn."

"I like all porn," Kenny declared, deciding not to bug Kyle about it. Something about his friend, whether it was his demeanor or just his long-time personality, told Kenny he was being honest about it.

Kyle 'khff'ed in his throat. "Niiice."

"I know," was Kenny's happy reply.

"Well," Kyle said, standing from the computer. "You know your own way around the porn-nets. I'm gonna...read a book, or something."

"Hey," Kenny stopped him once he'd slipped into Kyle's previous seat. "What's this?"

Kyle looked back at the screen and pursed his lips. "Oh, that's still there...it's some history thing. Me and my partner have been blowing it off to just talk." He half-smiled.

"Oh, I heard about that thing..." Kenny clicked on the minimized window without asking permission, causing Kyle to frown. "This is Cox's class, right?"

"Mm-hm."

"I think you have a message, dude."

Kyle leaned over. "I do? Open it."

"Kay."

**Hey...TOD?**

**You know how we were talking about my best friend? I know you think I should date her or whatever, but I don't really agree. I just...was thinking. Something happened, I mean. I don't want to date her, but is it bad if I wouldn't really mind if she wanted to date me? Like, if I kinda...liked the idea?**

**Mr. E**

Kenny frowned as Kyle started to laugh.

"I knew it."

And he leaned over to type a quick response before leaving Kenny to wonder. And then watch porn, because sometimes it's good to stop wondering and just watch some porn.

--

Later on, when Kenny was taking a 'bathroom' break (Kyle liked not to think about what went on on the other side of his bathroom door when Kenny went in right after watching porn,) Kyle saw that he'd received a reply to his

_It's not bad, but what do you think it means?_

It was:

**i really dont know.**

Kyle glanced at the bathroom door. Kenny might be a while, so why not?

_I think you need help, my friend._

And after a minute, he received a reply:

**what do you mean?**

_Go on...think about it. Who do you trust the most?_

**i dunno.**

_You don't know, or you just don't want to acknowledge it?_

**huh?**

_Never mind._

**no, seriously.**

_Would you trust your best friend with your life, or your girlfriend?_

**probly neither, 8-)**

_Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Well, who do you feel the most comfortable being yourself around?_

**oh...my best friend, i guess. even though he's kind of scary sometimes.**

_He?_

**she. sorry**

_Uh, no prob. And who would you rather spend time with?_

**I'm not sure.**

_Yeah, right. :-P Come on._

**any other questions?**

_Uh...kay...well, who makes you laugh more?_

**my best friend?**

_There you go. And who makes you happiest, dude?_

There was no reply for a long time, and Kenny was coming back out of the bathroom. Kyle didn't want to boot his friend off, and Kenny obviously still had business with the net, so he sent a second email and then closed the inbox.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Kenny asked, curious. "Emailing Mr. E?"

Kyle laughed and waved his hand dismissively. "Leave it, dude," he said, exhaling heavily and falling down to the bed face-first.

Kenny shrugged and returned to the computer. "Fine with me."

--

"Morning."

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Fags."

Kyle folded his arms over his chest to keep warm, glaring at the larger boy. "Do you have to do that?"

Cartman didn't grace him with a reply. Stan just stared at Kyle for a while, sniffling, until the redhead noticed and gave him a weird look, to which Stan shrugged and looked at the ground.

"I think I may have to move in permanently," Kenny said to Kyle, kind of hoping Cartman was listening (he wasn't.) The blonde smiled. "Your internet's faster than Eric's, and Jesus, dude, your clothes are so warm!"

Stan smiled to himself, rubbing his red nose with the back of his gloved hand. The clothes were so small on Kenny, he looked kind of goofy! They weren't really long enough for him, so his wrists and ankles were showing, but he was really skinny, so they didn't look too bad.

Kyle nodded. "O'course. Sorry I didn't have anything bigger, Ken."

Kenny didn't mind at all.

"Oh," the blonde perked up. "I wanna talk on the bus. Can we sit together?"

"Yeah, okay." Kyle didn't seem object to it.

Cartman was listening at this point. He looked at Stan and narrowed his eyes. The dark-haired boy was sniffling and poking at some ice with the toe of his shoe, listening to Kyle and Kenny and looking troubled. Predictable fag behavior, seriously.

On the bus, Stan wasn't quite so warm, sitting in the aisle seat next to Cartman. Kyle had given him an apologetic smile and shrug, but Stan still felt brushed aside, watching his so-called best-friend's back out of the corner of his eye as he and Kenny talked to each other quietly.

"Hey, so I think your Mr. E dude sent you another e-mail last night, but you were sleeping."

"Huh. Did you read it?"

"Nope, didn't. Not really my business."

Kyle laughed gently. "Why are we whispering?"

"Oh, I wanted to ask...you...would you really be mad if I, like, had some drinks at the party?"

Kyle sat back a bit. "What kind of drinks...?"

Kenny winced.

"...Dude, I am not going if you're serving alcohol." The shorter boy shook his head adamantly. "You know how my mom is about finding this shit out. I'd be grounded for fucking life."

Kenny nodded. Drinks...or Kyle? Now he had to make a decision. And he knew there was no negotiating, because Kyle only swore that much at one time when he was being dead serious.

Stan, from over in his seat, sniffled gently and turned his head to look in the other direction. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten Cartman was sitting next to him, so he caught a surprise view of the brunet's face. Wow...Even when Cartman wasn't doing anything in particular, he had these really...mean eyes. Stan kind of empathized with that right then – being nonstop bitchy and ignoring everybody so you don't ever have to deal with disappointment.

Because he sort of felt that, right now. Disappointment.

--

In History, Kyle logged in quickly, curious to see his message.

In response to his last's night closing message of

_Dude. You're so in love with her._

Mr. E had written:

**...I guess you're right.**

That was that, then. He wondered what would happen next.

--

And so this sort of thing continued for the rest of the week. I really can't remember if anything too interesting happened in between Wednesday morning and Friday afternoon, but I really doubt it.

Kenny got quite used to living at Kyle's place, which, combined with drifting rumors about Stan and Kyle being faggots, resulted in Stan and Kyle drifting apart for a bit and Stan realizing a newfound lack of interest in everything except the best friend with whom he was too embarrassed to talk about his problems, which, combined with Wendy's parents' intrusive parenting and keeping her and Stan pretty much apart, resulted in Wendy and Stan finding themselves slightly less into each other.

I know that must have been the most mind-blowing run-on sentence you've seen in a while, and probably mashed together more occurrences than everything that has happened in the story up until this point. There just didn't seem to be a point in stretching it out. Nobody likes to read about this kind of thing, and I don't like writing about it, either.

Oh, and as far as Red is concerned, Kyle continues to put up with her, still undecided about whether or not he wants to keep her as his girlfriend or just ask her to leave him alone. He's too careful like that.

Sorry, I just wasn't around for much of when that happened. I had a math test, and like I said, I can't follow them around all the time.

--

"Hey, Stan!"

Stan looked around and spotted Kyle. He blinked, wondering if he was just seeing things; Kyle hadn't really gone out of his way to hang out with him at all this past week, so it was surprising to think the redhead had come to meet him after Football.

Not that he'd had a lot to complain about. After talking to TOD on Tuesday night, he'd sort of begun to understand what everything he was feeling meant. He thought that his boy-crush on Kyle must just be some sort of...phase (which it probably was, you know;) something that was supposed to happen when two best friends grew up together and started to wonder what the point of any other relationship really was. Just as Chef used to tell them: sometimes your friends are going to get girlfriends and you're going to feel brushed aside. So, why not take a romantic interest in your best friend and save yourself the trouble?

He hated to think of it that way, but it did make sense.

"Hey, dude." Stan nodded and smiled. "Need something?"

Kyle folded his arms. "I just wanted to say hi? Jeez."

"Heh," the taller boy frowned.

Ever since Wednesday, TOD had been telling him to act on his feelings. To...ask 'her' out, so to speak. Stan kept on denying the suggestion, presenting reason upon silly reason that it would be a much better idea just to keep it a secret. Having a crush on a guy was really way too big of a thing to just throw out there casually, you know? And what if he got over it in a few days? At this point, the feelings were strong, but Stan was smart enough to think that maybe the whole thing was just his imagination getting the best of him, or a result of TOD's persuasion.

Still, in the time that he did feel this way, he couldn't help but wonder what Kyle would think about all of it – and hope that it wasn't anything bad.

"Stan...Earth to Stan!"

"Huh? Yeah!" Stan huffed and cocked his head slightly. "Sorry, dude. Got a lot on my mind, you know?"

"A lot on your mind?" Kyle repeated, looking impressed. "You?"

"Hey!" Stain complained crossly. "Retard."

"Why do you guys keep calling me that?" Kyle leaned against the brick wall of the outer building and crossed his ankles. He looked over at his friend. "Anyway...you have a game tonight?"

Stan nodded, wanting to look back at Kyle but restraining himself from doing so for fear of the other boy reading his emotions through his face. Despite the fact that Stan and Kenny were constantly calling him a 'retard,' Kyle really was the smartest (and most observant) of them.

"You coming again?"

"Well..." Kyle thought he might. He kind of wanted to talk about this whole not-being-so-tight-anymore thing, and resolve that issue of girls giving them weird looks and guys calling them unfriendly names because of Bebe's accusations. However, he knew Stan wasn't very open in that respect, and the best Kyle could hope for would be to coax some of his best-friend's thoughts out of him later tonight, at the game, or tomorrow, at Kenny's party.

"We're missing the bus, dude," Stan reminded. "I don't want to walk..."

Kyle stood from the wall and grinned. "You know I'd take you for a ride any day," he cooed flirtatiously as he walked in the direction of the bus pick-up. Stan hesitated then made a silly face.

"Whatever," he flatly replied, as Kyle went giggling at his own stupid joke. Stan would have seen it as a joke, maybe a week earlier. Now, it seemed more like a cruel-hearted, blind-faced insult from God. Or could Kyle actually be flirting with him??

Ahh, Stanley. The smitten are so hopeful.

--

"I can't figure it out," Kenny grumbled, quietly.

He was realizing, as he stood on top of the hill and looked down at the brightly-lit, commotion-filled football field, that he had gravely overestimated his own ability to estimate. One night before his party, and he had no freaking clue how many people they needed to plan for. Thankfully, he'd managed to appease Eric back into talking to him again, and, furthermore, to do a rough survey of who was planning to attend.

Honestly, one might think it cute, how seriously Kenny was taking this.

Gazing around once more, he decided to head back down to where everything was happening, maybe find Eric and see what he'd gathered. Surprisingly enough, Kyle had chosen to attend this game, too. Maybe Kyle had a newfound interest in football? He smirked as he reached the bottom of the hill and the base of the field. Maybe Kyle had a newfound interest in Stan?

Not that he was saying anything for sure, but he'd kind of noticed something recently...

All things considered, he wouldn't really be against it if that were the case. He felt kind of bad for hogging all of Kyle's attention this week, but at the same time, he didn't. It was okay to be selfish once in a while, and he sort of suspected it was helping his friends realize how they felt about each other, whether that something was romantic or not. Either way, change was happening.

Speaking of selfish! He glanced over by the entrance to the field. There was no mistaking that green cap and, beside it, the long, blinding red hair of an unquestionably selfish little leech-girl.

Kenny jogged away from me, supposedly having some other business he didn't necessarily need me chronicling. I believe this was my cue to switch over to Kyle and Red.

"Oh!" Kyle laughed, having been forcing himself to - in response to his date's lame jokes. "Ah, ha ha."

She smiled back at him sweetly. "I know, right?!"

"Yeaah," he nodded, setting his hand on the back of his head and glancing around the field. He was scoping someone else out to talk to; anyone he knew would suffice. Anyone. Anybody other than this. Please. "Yeah..."

Red giggled and linked their arms, figuring his behavior to be nothing more than shyness. "Kyle...you don't have to act that way around me," she let him know. "Just be yourself."

Kyle managed a weird smile. "Uh-huh. I know, thanks."

"Noo problem."

This unfortunate interaction continued (I think it did, because it started to gross me out after a while and I stopped paying attention) until about half-time. Taking the idea from his own actions the week previous, Kyle was able to control her chittering for long enough to let her know:

"I'm, ah...I have to talk to Stan about something, okay?" He lifted his hat a bit and scratched his severely itching hairline. Well...hats do that to you. "Can I find you later?"

She pursed her lips and rocked back and forth on her heels; "I'll find you..."

"Naw, naw," he said, as kindly as he could. "I'll find you. Okay?"

She shrugged and put a hand on his shoulder with a sly smile. She pulled him down and kissed him, but he was wiser now, and turned his head so that she caught his cheek instead of his mouth. Grinning so that she knew this was quite enough to 'satisfy' him, Kyle turned and was off.

"Hmph," Red said to herself, traveling in the direction of the bleachers, where she knew Kyle's friends must be waiting just for her to come and talk about him.

This time around, Stan was already hanging around the fence, looking for Kyle by the time the redhead was visible. Stan smiled widely, eyes bright and excited like those of a child with candy.

"Ky! Dude!" He called out as his friend approached. "Did you see that last play??"

When Kyle stopped, he bent forward to catch his breath and looked up at Stan with a tired smile. "Sorry. I wasn't really watching."

Stan's grin fell. "Uh, and why not?!"

"I was kind of held up," Kyle said, scowling a bit. "Red, you know?"

That was all the explanation he needed. Stan started laughing. "Jesus, dude, she's sucking your life out."

"Yeah, but..." Kyle shrugged, not laughing along. Eventually, Stan felt awkward and stopped. "What's a guy to do?"

"Just tell her you're not into her," Stan suggested, leaning over the fence. This felt familiar. "It's not really that hard."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Easy for you to say; you have the advantage of being taken already. Mister Perfect Boyfriend."

Stan smiled, thought hearing Kyle say it that was made him feel suddenly rather lonely. Phase or not, his heart really did ache for the other boy.

"Hm! I blow off halftime talk, coach's gonna kick my ass when we go back in, so I can talk to you...and now all you can do is make fun of me!" Stan made a playful I'm-hurt face. "Thanks, dude."

Kyle huffed in surprise, perhaps taking him more seriously than Stan intended but probably about as much as he really meant.

"Whoa, sorry." Had Stan really blown that off just to talk to him or had he been joking? He cleared his throat, trying to lighten up the abruptly tense air about them. "I can make it up to you," he said with a coy smile muffling his teasing smirk.

"Uh-huh," Stan drawled flatly, with an amused smile. "How?"

Kyle opened his mouth to reply –

"MARSH!"

Stan spun, eyes wide. "Shit, dude!" he hissed, jogging off to rejoin his team.

Kyle sighed, shaking his head. Having nothing else to do, he decided to go see if he could find Kenny.

Elsewhere:

"Hey...Wendy!"

The dark-haired girl looked up from her cell phone and pursed her lips.

"Oh, um...hi." She nodded in slight confusion when Red plopped down beside her on the bleachers, as if coming home after a long day.

"Man!" Red sighed, tossing her hair back behind her shoulders. "I am EXHAUSTED. Kyle just had to drag me around the track...this ENTIRE time...Auh! It was a good exercise, but come ON, these shoes are not made for walking that much!"

Wendy just stared at her. She was afraid to try and get a word in.

"Anyway," Red continued, bubbly. She got over that quickly, thought Wendy. "How are things with Stan?"

Wendy opened her mouth, but -

"Cuz things are GREAT with Kyle. I think it's really cute how shy he is..."

Wendy frowned and closed her mouth, then opened it again -

"And," Red continued happily, "tomorrow night, you know, at Ken's party, I think we may just ...KYLE!"

Wendy grunted and shut her mouth as Red stood right back up and waved frantically to the confused boy at the base of the bleachers.

"Hey..." Kyle nodded at the two girls as he climbed up. He had a look of intense concentration on his face, which Wendy found to be curious. Even more surprisingly, when he stopped before them, the first person he addressed was not Red, but her. "Wendy, I really need to talk to you about something...um..."

Wendy pursed her lips. "Me?"

"Yes," Kyle answered quickly, a flash of desperation crossing his face. Suddenly, it clicked, and Wendy was all too eager to help the poor guy out. She stood. "Of course, Kyle."

They left a dumbfounded Red in the middle of the bleachers, Kyle having sent the redhaired girl a considerable amount of don't-follow-us vibes.

"Thanks," Kyle muttered once they were on the track. "I'm ...kind of getting scared of her."

"Understandably," Wendy nodded, folding her arms over her chest. It was cold in the evening. "Really hard to get a word in with her, isn't it?"

Kyle laughed somewhat darkly. To be honest, it made Wendy uncomfortable to see Kyle so freaked out; he was usually the mellow voice-of-reason one in a group.

"Cold?" Kyle inquired, trying to lighten up the conversation. She glanced at him and answered with a smirk. Kyle smiled; "Guess so. I don't know how Stan can be out there playing right now..." He shook his head, a dreamy smile crossing his face. "Maybe I'll never understand athletes, but I guess it's what makes him happy, so..."

Wendy resisted the urge to snort. If there was anything Stan talked to her about regularly, it was complaining about having to play football in the cold.

"Hey, let's go to Tweek Bros'," she said.

"What?" He looked at her. "The coffee place?"

"Where else?"

He sniffed and shrugged. "That was kinda out of nowhere..."

"Did you have plans?" the dark-haired girl wondered. "I mean, I'm getting bored here, and I'm sure you'd like to get out of here, what with -"

"Red, yeah," Kyle sighed. "Okay, that's cool. I'm kind of - " he licked his lip, " - in the mood for coffee, anyway."

They walked silently toward the road that led away from the field and to the parking lot and main road, and Kyle stopped them near the tall fence when he saw Kenny and Cartman talking. "Hold on," he muttered. "I'm gonna tell Kenny to have Stan meet us after the game."

Wendy hummed. "Good idea."

Cartman and Kenny, however, did not notice the two approaching them, having been in a heated discussion.

"Well, SIR, I hope you're happy. Just about all of these idiots and their mothers are going to your party."

Kenny folded his arms and looked away in thought. "Uh, Eric...isn't that good thing?"

Cartman narrowed his eyes, studying the other boy's face. "Like I care either way. I'm going to be leaving 5 AM tomorrow for the choral festival, so I won't be around for the stupid thing, anyway - but I fucking swear to you - " He paused and added, considerably louder: "LOOK ME IN THE EYES, MCCORMICK," and Kenny did; " - even if I will be in Denver, I will KNOW if ANY of your dumbass friends go near my stuff...and if there is so much as a SPECK OF DUST misplaced from my piano..."

"I get it! I get it!" Kenny wailed, throwing his arms out. "Nobody touches the piano!!"

"Or the rest of my things! And no watching porn on my computer!" Cartman added with a wrinkled nose. "No fornication in my bed! And no stepping on sheet music, and I want nobody vomiting in my toilet!"

"I thought there's going to be no alcohol," Kyle finally interrupted, not caring that Cartman's face was red and he looked ready to attack anyone at the mere thought of his things being violated.

Kenny turned quickly, surprised to see him there, and with Wendy. "Hi, and no, there's no alcohol, I made sure of it."

Kyle quirked his mouth at the blonde boy and Cartman just snorted obnoxiously. "Grow up, Broflovski. You seriously think at least one of these dumbasses - " and he waved in the general direction of the entire football field, " - isn't going to spike the drinks?"

"If they do, I - "

"Hey, can we go?" Wendy interrupted, tapping her foot. "Kyle, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something before Stan meets us."

Kenny lifted his eyebrows at the two of them as Cartman barked that he was going home and then did just that.

"Yeah." Kyle cleared his throat, looking at Kenny. "Could you tell Stan to come over to Tweek Bros' after the game? Wendy and I are heading over now."

Kenny shrugged, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. "Uh-huh."

--

"Eric's really passionate, isn't he?" Wendy commented as she and Kyle sat in a corner of the coffee shop, her in a puffy armchair and him half-lying on the adjacent couch. He grunted a tired laugh and turned his head to look outside; one of the walls was all window, and he could see the black sky well from his place under the dim, yellow-orangeish lights. The air felt wet; he hoped Stan would get there before it started to rain.

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that," he finally replied, once Wendy had started to zone out. She'd said she wanted to talk about something...

She giggled softly and took a sip of her hot tea as Kyle set his coffee on the table and laid himself along the couch. He folded his arms behind his head.

"So," he started, yawning. "I'm kind of wondering what you could need to talk to me about..."

She shifted uncomfortably, folding her legs up underneath her so she was entirely inside the armchair. She gently swung the tea around in her cup.

"I'm not sure how to say this, but..." She sighed through her nose and glanced at the floor, moving her cup to her mouth but lowering it again. "Well, do you...do you think I'm right for Stan?"

He scratched at his eyebrow with the back of his thumbnail and craned his neck to look at her. He frowned. "Um...what?"

"I just feel kind of bad." She looked him straight in the eye, almost as if trying to get Kyle to admit something. "Feelings can't be forced, can they?"

"Sure they can," Kyle replied, closing his eyes as he returned to his original position. "If you want them enough to force them, they're already real."

"...Huh. I guess I see what you mean," she muttered, sipping her tea and wincing. She'd forgotten it was still too hot to drink. "I just think he really deserves someone who loves him...and...I know I - well, I don't really know, but - " She stopped, seeming to realize the futility of trying to speak straight out of her head. She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "I was just thinking that, if you love somebody, don't you do anything for him? If you're really in love, aren't you supposed to sacrifice everything you have for his happiness?"

Kyle, marginally annoyed, now sat up and leaned forward, picking up his coffee and staring at the lid.

"Wendy, I'm sorry, but..." he lifted the cup and took a huge, sassy gulp of it, not minding the intense burn in his mouth at all. "...Ahh. ...But you are seriously overthinking this."

She frowned defensively. "Sorry?"

"What I'm saying is that I really don't think everything has to be that technical." He shrugged and then his jaw dropped, tongue flapping like a dog's in protest of the harsh coffee burns. Noticing the weird look he was getting, he decided to let Wendy have the serious atmosphere of conversation she seemed to be seeking. Perhaps then she'd listen to him. "You obviously care for him way more than enough to be his girlfriend."

"...You think so?" She pouted.

He gave her a half-smile. "Uh-huh. In fact, if you were sacrificing things like your own life for his happiness...at this age, dude, I'd be sending you off to the mental hospital." He eyed his coffee warily and decided to take another sip, even though his tongue felt wild and numb. "Don't try to grow up so fast..."

She leaned forward and rested her face on her hand with an amused smile. "Kyle, why don't you give the coffee a rest? Are you just trying to be tough?"

"...Nah," he huffed, leaning back on the couch and leaving the extremely hot drink alone. He fished around in his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of mint gum, popping one in his mouth and offering to Wendy, who shook her head politely. "I'm just being a dumbass, I guess."

"Yeah, really." She set her own tea down on the same table and then sat back in the armchair. "Thanks, Kyle."

"Thanks? Thanks for what? What were you guys talking about?"

So Stan had finally arrived. Kyle sat up and looked at him, then out the window. It wasn't raining yet, so why was Stan's hair wet?

"Showers after game, remember?" Stan reminded him, and Wendy was curious as to where the hell that comment had come from. There was obviously a bond between the boys that nobody could understand. "Well, aren't you going to tell me what you were talking about??"

"Chill, dude," Kyle laughed, patting the seat next to himself. "We were just talking about how awesome you played tonight."

Stan made a face but let the topic slide, sitting down on the couch and reaching for the coffee, lifting it to his mouth.

"Stan," Kyle spoke, "wait; thats - "

"OH! SICK!" he slammed the cup back onto the table with a grimace. "Why didn't you tell me that's coffee?!"

Kyle laughed and shoved the other boy's shoulder. "I tried..."

"My tongue is burnt..." Stan added in a whiny voice. "Ahh...coffee's so nasty..."

"How 'bout some gum?" Kyle illustrated the offer by displaying his own gum in between his teeth. It took Stan a moment to realize Kyle offering him a different piece, not the one in his mouth; hence the taller boy's brief look of disbelief.

"Uh, su..re." He nodded. Kyle handed him a piece and he stuck it in his mouth quickly, chewing on it harder than he really should have.

Kyle smirked. "Something wrong?"

"Nooo," Stan frowned back at him grumpily. He was still wondering what he and Wendy had been discussing earlier.

"Come ON." Kyle threw his arm around Stan's neck and play-choked him for a while, ignoring the other boy's annoyed protesting. "You can tell me!!"

"Quit it! Dude! Stop!!"

"Aw, I'm embarrassing you in front of your girlfriend, aren't I?" Kyle throttled him harder, laughing dumbly. "I'm sooo sorry..."

"Ugh! Kyle!"

Wendy chewed on her bottom lip and watched their boyish banter for a while before turning her gaze to the window-wall. "Guys, I think it's raining."

Kyle stopped in the middle of pulling on Stan's hair for stealing his glasses.

"Huh...I knew it would..." Kyle's hand still gripped the dark-haired boy's head even after Stan had given his glasses back.

"Don't look so gloomy, guys," Wendy giggled as she stood. "I have an umbrella!"

Stan just looked at her, turning his gum over in his mouth pensively when Kyle stood as well, his hand lingering in Stan's hair for just a bit longer than necessary; fingers almost running through it before they left him alone. Stan frowned and squished his gum between his molars in annoyance. Why, why, why did he have to start noticing these things now?!

--

Wendy's house had been first, so she'd lent Kyle and Stan her umbrella for the rest of their trip back. Wendy had kissed Stan's cheek and congratulated him on a great game, and Kyle stayed by her doorstop. He'd stopped her before she could go inside.

"Thanks for the umbrella...you saved me a lot of headache, you know."

She frowned. "What?"

Kyle smirked and leaned in by her ear. "I'd've had to listen to Stan bitch about being wet the entire rest of the way."

She huffed and shoved him out of her house playfully. "You! Go on, get outta here," she smiled, closing the door.

When Kyle went over to the other boy, he could barely see Stan's dark scowl.

"Is that it?" Stan asked quietly, clutching the umbrella tightly so that it was rigid and unmoving above them. Kyle ducked underneath its protection and then gave his friend a look-over.

"What?"

Stan, still not moving, tapped his foot once. "You and Wendy."

"Me and Wendy," Kyle said, implying that he needed more information to have an adequate response.

"...Fuck," Stan swore, surprising the other boy and hastily moving along. Kyle stumbled to keep up with him. "Fuck."

"'Fuck...?' Stan, what's up, dude?"

"That's what you guys were doing in the coffee place? Kyle, that's so..." he stopped again and grunted in exasperation. "I should have figured it out...it's so obvious now..."

"Wait a sec." Kyle blinked. "What are you talking about? I'm not dating Wendy or anything. I'm not even after her."

Stan glared at him. "Then how do you explain everything that's been going on...?"

Kyle sighed. "Dude. How about you tell me first what all this 'everything' is."

Stan glanced to the side. "...Just...never mind."

"I'm not trying to break you and Wendy up. You know I wouldn't do that. Besides...I have Red, you know?" Kyle almost felt sick, but he had to convince Stan somehow, and his best friend was a little too paranoid of a person to just believe Kyle without a reason. Kyle didn't hold it against him.

"..." Stan didn't look remotely relieved.

Part of that was because he wasn't totally afraid that someone was trying to steal Wendy. It wasn't really so much that thought Kyle was stealing Wendy from him, though that might have been some of it. No; it was much closer to feeling as if Wendy were stealing Kyle. Stealing Kyle.

And he knew he seriously had to get out of there before he said any more.

Thank god Kyle wasn't the nosy type. They walked in silence until they reached Kyle's place, and Stan muttered a 'bye.'

Kyle frowned. "We're still on for dinner tomorrow, right? Red and Wendy?"

"Oh, uh-huh. Yup."

"I'm sorry, dude," Kyle said, looking weirded out. "I'm seriously not trying to break you and Wendy up."

Stan quirked his mouth in an indifferent smile.

I wish you were, though, Stan thought after Kyle was inside, and then added out loud:

"I'm so stupid!!"

When he got home and his mom asked how his game went, he replied 'great' and stood in the foyer dazedly, wondering what he should do next. It seemed as if he just couldn't stop everything from changing; every day, all his friends and all the things he did felt different, even if it was all the same. He realized he hadn't been chewing his gum and it had just been sitting squished between his teeth for a long time. Nervously, he started chewing it again and licked his lips. Coffee (yuck) and mint. Coffee and mint...

Coffee and mint; a strong taste. Coffee and mint; strong enough of a taste to override the natural taste of 'mouth.' Coffee and mint; exactly what his best friend would have tasted like if Stan had kissed him back there.

And then there was a knock at the door, and his mom asked him to answer it. Slowly, he went over, deciding that, if it was Kyle, the first thing he would do is kiss him. Kiss him like his life depended on it, or something like that.

And then he opened the door and he was almost literally thrown back. Knocked to the floor, he looked up in surprise and only managed to catch a glimpse of wet jeans stomping past him. He heard his mother's voice.

"Who - ? Oh, sweetie, it's so nice to - ...Oh my god, Shelly...what happened? What happened to you?!"

"Shelly! Oh my god, what happened?!"

Lying on the foyer floor, Stan wanted to scream. What a fucked up night!

--

Dinner the next day was awkward, to say the least.

Stan had been a little pale and rather out of it all night. In fact, he'd probably have cancelled the double date (at McDonalds it's okay not to show up for your reservation) and not gone to Kenny's party at all, if not for the fact that this feeling of isolation he'd had ever since Shelly came home last night was making him really want to be around Kyle, and sort of around Wendy, too.

"I'm so glad we did this," Red commented happily, being the only of the four of them entirely oblivious to Stan's mood and the overall tension between her three dinner-mates. She shoved a little bite of salad into her mouth and chewed, smiling over at Kyle, who looked a litle annoyed. Wendy just looked nervous.

"Yeah..." Wendy said, glancing at her watch. "Maybe we should get going. It started fifteen minutes ago, anyway."

Stan stood up wordlessly and tossed his half-eaten burger out, already out the door before the other three could really gather themselves. Kyle, of course, was still under the impression that this had to do with his argument with Stan last night, and was half-saddened and half-annoyed at Stan's moodiness. Wendy was completely confused, and Red was just happy to be around Kyle. In fact, as they walked outside and followed after Stan to Cartman's house, she grabbed his hand in hers and didn't let go.

Not until Wendy came up on Kyle's other side and poked him gently.

"Did something happen last night?" she asked him. "He's been like that all day and he won't say anything."

He pursed his lips and frowned distractedly. "No...not really..." He paused and glanced at her quickly. "I think he might think I'm after you."

"...Oh...what? Really?"

Kyle shook his head to himself. "Guess that's what I get for being casual with everybody..."

"Nah," Wendy frowned. "That's his problem. You shouldn't baby him for the rest of your life...he's going to have to grow up eventually."

Kyle gave her a weird smile. "Hm, guess so. But I like Stan how he is, anyway. He's only sixteen; he deserves a little more time to think about everything."

Wendy smiled at him. If everything had turned out differently from when they were younger, she could really see herself being in love with Kyle. As it was, she just really admired him.

"So it's Kenny's party at Eric's house," she remarked idly. "Is this a normal thing for Kenny? I don't know him that well...I guess it just seems kind of weird."

Kyle had to laugh. "That's Kenny for you. He's been really excited about throwing his first big party. I think he's hoping he'll get a girlfriend or something. He's never been kissed," Kyle snickered. "He really wants to, though."

The dark-haired girl looked impressed. "Oh, he's never been kissed? That's..."

"Weird?"

"Well, cute." She smiled coyly. "Anyway, isn't that Eric's place?"

Kyle's eyes widened as he glanced up and looked to see their destination. The place looked insane.

"Jeez," he muttered. "This should be...interesting."

--

I was so exhausted. I needed to take a nap. Terribly sorry about that, but by the time I woke up, the party was already an hour broken in, and I ran around, looking for the first familiar face I could find.

It ended up being Kyle. The party was going along great, and every so often, Kenny could be seen in the game room doorway, running to-and-fro and trying to keep everything in o-k shape for the guests. Stan and Wendy were nowhere to be seen (other than in passing) and I shut the door when I went into the game room because the music was obnoxious and noisy in the main house.

There were a bunch of guys standing around with handfuls of cheez-its and pretzels and cans of soda, chatting about one thing or another and watching ESPN by the bar or playing with the arcade racing game by the wall. The only girl in the room was Red, who was standing unusually close to the foosball table, cheering Kyle on as he and Token played table-soccer against Craig and Clyde.

"Alright!! Yeah!!! You show him!!" Red whooped, throwing her arms up in excitement as Kyle vigorously...turned handles.

"Dude," Craig growled overtop the foosball table, eyes glued to the ball. "Will someone get that girl out of here?"

"Sorry, can't," Kyle replied, eyes also stuck to the table. "Aw, Token, goddammit, why didn't you get that?!" The redhead reached under and grabbed the ball that had rolled down after going through the goal. "You're useless, man!!"

"It's just because I'm black, isn't it?" Token whined as the game continued.

"No, it's because you're rich," Craig returned, flipping him off. "Aw, Clyde – motherfucker - !"

Clyde winced as the ball flew straight into their goal and Craig barked at him.

"Why're you playing like such a retard?!"

"Dude, my freaking arm is broken!"

Craig made a face, and Kyle laughed.

"YAY! Goal! Score for Kyle and Token!" Red giggled, "Hey, what's the score, Ky?"

Someone stumbled onto Red, surprising the foosball players and halting the gameplay.

"Heeey, Red!" Stan muttered. "Don't call 'im...that. Only I can...call Ky..." he frowned in concentration; "...Ky."

Kyle frowned and left the table, looking Stan up and down before wetting his lips;

"Stan...what are you doing?"

Stan giggled softly and managed to stand relatively straight. He mock-saluted Kyle.

"Havin' a gr...eat ...time!" He snorted and started laughing hysterically. "Ky...Ky...hahaha!"

"Dammit, Stan, what the hell did you take?!"

"Aw, nuffin' really."

"..." Kyle turned to the others, seeming to think for a moment. "...Red...can you take my place, or whatever? I'm getting Stan outta here. Somebody must've spiked the punch."

Red pouted. "But Ky – "

"Hey, you! I told you not to call 'im that!!!" Stan shook and would have fallen if Kyle hadn't caught him by the armpits.

Red glared at him then looked at Kyle again. "But Ky, can't I go with you?"

"No," Kyle answered.

"...Why? Don't you...don't you think I can help? Don't you even want me around to support you?"

Kyle had to stop to prevent himself from exploding at her (which would have resulted in Stan falling to the floor. Stan was out of it and his head was currently slumped down on Kyle's arm.)

"Why would I need your support to take care of him?!" Kyle asked loudly. He then lowered his voice. "Look, you seriously need to leave me alone. You've been creeping me out and for god's sake, I can't even do anything without you asking questions or trying to follow me...I can't deal with it anymore!"

"What? Why?!" She looked devastated.

"I don't know. I don't know why! I just..." He glanced down at the black-haired boy who was now, like...licking Kyle's wrist or something. Kyle didn't know or care. "I need to get Stan to a bed."

"So...you're saying you care about him more than you care about me?!"

Kyle took a deep breath and shut his eyes for a moment. Then,

"Yes."

And he hauled Stan out of the room and dragged him upstairs, depositing him on a bed with a large salad bowl (courtesy of Kenny) next to it in case he needed to throw up. Kyle then went downstairs, confirmed that the punch had alcohol in it, and went out onto the porch to fume.

Well, at least he was good and rid of Red.

--

"Great party you're having."

Kenny, who was in the middle of pulling another bag of chips out of the storage cabinet, looked up, dazed.

"Oh, hey. Thanks."

Bebe smiled and walked over to him.

"So why are you all alone in here?"

Kenny stood up and smiled at her, waving the bag of chips as he kicked the cabinet shut and started walking through the living room to get back to the main area. She followed.

"Well?" She demanded, taking a sip of her punch. He stopped and gave her a weird look.

"Sorry...I thought you got that I was just getting some more chips..."

She set her cup down on the closed grand piano top as she approached him, and Kenny just about had a heart attack. Somewhere in Denver, so did Cartman. His piano senses were tingling.

"Bebe...could you, um..." Instead of trying to explain the piano issue to her, Kenny just side-stepped the approaching blonde and grabbed the cup off the instrument.

She grabbed the wrist that had grabbed the cup and leaned in close.

"You're kind of cute," she muttered, inspecting his face.

"Um." He smiled nervously, looking cross-eyed at the girl two inches from his face. "Thanks."

She giggled and rested her head by his neck, letting go of his wrist to put her arms around his waist.

"I was worried," she muttered warmly against his neck. Kenny could smell alcohol and was suddenly freaking out about what Kyle would say. Kenny certainly hadn't authorized the stuff...

"I don't know why," Bebe continued; "I don't know why Kyle would break up with me. I mean, aren't I pretty enough?" She looked up and made a cutesy pout at the other blonde, who swallowed thickly.

"Ah...what? I..."

"Kennyyyy..." She bit her lip and leaned in too close. "Am I ugly?"

"No, but..."

This is it! He thought. Is this really how my first kiss is going to happen? With a drunk girl I don't even really like and who doesn't really even like me?

His eyes fluttered closed and his hand tightened into a fist, crushing half of the chips in the bag – he could feel her breath on his mouth –

"Hey, have either of you seen – Oh!"

Bebe stumbled back and Kenny blinked in surprise.

Wendy's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, gosh – I'm sorry, I..." She turned to go, but then she remembered what Kyle had said. Kenny had never been kissed before? Did that mean his first kiss would be with Bebe?

Wendy sort of felt...bad. She knew for a fact that, just yesterday, Bebe was talking about how she had this plan to make Kyle jealous, and –

Ohhh...

She stood there silently and watched them until Bebe grunted in irritation.

"Seen who, Wendy?" She asked, impatient.

The dark-haired girl bit her lip. Maybe this would be her time to do her daily good.

"Actually, um...I was looking for Kenny."

"Huh?!"

Bebe scowled as Kenny stared at her in surprise.

"Come on," Wendy urged, pretending to be in a rush. "I really...Kenny, come on. Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, well...okay?" He shrugged and Wendy pulled Kenny out of the living room, leaving Bebe alone with an abandoned bag of chips and the piano. She stood there dumbly for a moment before huffing and plopping down on the floor, opening the snack bag and munching away angrily.

"What did you want?" Kenny asked once Wendy had him out in the family room again. She glanced at him furtively.

"You've never been kissed, right?"

His blue eyes bugged out at her and he flushed in slight embarrassment. "What the hell, Wendy?!"

She frowned and put her hands up. "I just thought your first kiss shouldn't be with Bebe...I mean," she looked down; "she's okay, and everything, but no offense; she's not really into you for the right reasons. You wouldn't want to waste it on her."

Still pink in the face, Kenny hissed: "I don't need your help deciding who to kiss!"

She looked at him blankly. "I'm telling you Bebe isn't a good choice. She was drunk too, wasn't she?"

"...So? Maybe a drunk slut is all I can get." He didn't mean it, but Wendy was pissing him off. "Why are you bugging me about this?!"

"I just thought...like I said, Bebe shouldn't be your first kiss, Kenny!"

He folded his arms, wondering whatever came of those chips of his. "So, who should be?"

"Your first kiss should be with..." she bit her lip and smiled. "Someone special. Everyone deserves that much."

"Uh-huh," Kenny tried to ask more, but Wendy had already turned and gone, saying something about Kyle or Stan, or maybe both of them. He scowled and went a-searching for his lost chips.

Wendy's attention had, indeed, been caught by Kyle, who, looking severely ticked off, had just gone up the stairs. She followed him, certain that he'd know where Stan was.

Kyle:

The redhead was making a lot of faces he didn't realize he was making. He'd been about to go up and tell Stan off for getting himself into this state, but when he reached Cartman's bedroom, he saw that Stan wasn't on the bed anymore.

"Stan?" he called, looking around. He went over to the personal bathroom. "...Stan?"

Stan was bent over on all fours inside the shower. His head was ducked and a hand was over his mouth. When he heard his name, his entire body jerked and he fell back on his ass, staring up at Kyle with wide, red eyes.

"Kyle..." he rubbed his eyes furiously and sniffled, laughing weakly. "I, uhhh...hey..."

Kyle merely stood there. "Why are you crying?"

"Mnot!" Stan insisted, then sniffled and rubbed his eyes again. "...Aw..." He stood shakily and braced himself against the shower wall. Kyle huffed and went over, draping his friend's arm over his shoulder and guiding him back into the bedroom. At least he hadn't vomited.

"Stan...why did you drink?"

"Ah didn'," Stan muttered, face hanging down against his chest.

"Yes, you did." Kyle frowned. "Did you know the punch was spiked?"

"Spiked...spiked..." Stan burst out laughing, then stopped suddenly, dropping his head onto Kyle's shoulder. He was silent, and it was only when Kyle let his friend go to let him back to the bed did he realize Stan was crying again.

"...Dude," Kyle said, softly. He sat down and held Stan in a one-armed hug, shaking him encouragingly. "Come on, what's wrong?"

"Nnfn." Stan put his face into his hands and hunched forward.

"Stan, if you don't answer me, I'm going to leave you here alone."

Stan froze for a moment but then looked up from his hands to glare at the other boy. "Fine! I dn'care!"

Kyle answered him with a stern look, and Stan found himself hopelessly lost in brown and green and gray.

"Ky...I..." he swallowed, mouth tasting dry. "I..."

His eyes watered again and tears ran.

"Kyle, Kyle," he repeated desperately. "Kyle! He..."

"He?"

"It...he...Shelly...Shelly!" He wailed. Kyle blinked in surprise. Shelly?

"What about her?" the redhead asked.

"Shelly!" Stan repeated, as if Kyle would understand better from it. The redhead shook his head to himself, throttling Stan lightly to sober him somewhat. It didn't really work.

"Stan."

"Ahhh...Shelly!" Stan dropped his face back into his hands, rubbing it fiercely. "Ahm scared."

Kyle stood up, losing his patience and getting a little scared himself. "What did Shelly do to you, Stan?"

"Don't go away," Stan moaned wetly, grasping drunkenly at the air.

"Goddammit!" Kyle cursed, looking around. "Why'd you have to get yourself drunk! We're getting out of here now, Stan."

He literally grabbed the other boy's arm and yanked him to his feet, but Stan was taller and weighed more so it was easy for him to fall back onto the bed.

"Don't, Kyle," he groaned. "Shelly..."

Kyle sighed heavily and watched his friend's pitiful muttering for a while.

"Kyle," Stan said quietly. He'd been calling Kyle for a whole minute before the redhead went over and laid himself down next to him on the bed. They were both on their backs, shoulders about a foot apart. Kyle, staring at the ceiling, said:

"I'm here, dude. I'm here. Chill. You don't need to be scared."

"Shelly," Stan moaned drunkenly. "Shelly...mnngh..."

Kyle rolled onto his side and propped the side of his face up on his elbow. He gazed at Stan until the boy noticed he was being watched. Nervously, Stan looked back at him, having a hard time focusing.

"Everything's okay," Kyle assured him, not breaking eye contact. "If it's not, I'll _make_ it okay. Alright?"

Stan blinked at him dumbly. "Oh."

Kyle couldn't' help but smile when Stan wiped his nose and added:

"Really?"

Kyle bared his teeth and stuck his tongue out between them. "Yuh-huh!"

This earned him a careful smile from Stan. "Your eyes are pretty..."

Kyle rolled his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. "Shut up, dude. I seriously hope you don't remember any of this when you're sober, cuz you'll probably be hiding under a rock for a week if you do..."

Stan laughed stupidly, comprehending none of it. "Kyle, you're the...best friend a guy could...have. I – I love ya, man - " and he started crying again.

Kyle covered his mouth with his free hand, trying not to crack up. Stan was so ridiculous like this! Kyle reached out then stopped, looking hesitantly at his prone hand. Would it be too much?

He sighed and shrugged inwardly. Setting his hand on Stan's head, he started to stroke sweat-matted hair. Stan's eyelids lowered and he hummed in content, forgetting he'd even been crying.

Encouraged, Kyle continued to pet him. He almost fell asleep, himself.

"Kyle..." Stan muttered, and Kyle 'hmm?'ed sleepily. "I wanna sleep..."

Kyle yawned and moved to get up, but Stan grumbled: "You too."

Kyle stood up anyway, yawning. "Not in Cartman's bed, I'm not. C'mon dude, wake up. Let's go home, I'm going to tell my mom they had alcohol so we left. It's better if she hears it from me."

Stan stood ungracefully. "Kay."

That was Wendy's cue to stop eavesdropping and go back downstairs.

Kyle tried to find Kenny to explain briefly the reason for their departure, but heard from some people that, upon seeing the crumbs of chips somebody had left all over the piano in the living room, Kenny had bummed a gun off Craig and shot himself in the head, leaving a suicide note that read: '**brb guys, need to ask satan for a favor**.'

So he took Stan and they left the party without their dates.

"Feel any better?" Kyle asked after a while, getting uncomfortable with how Stan was walking behind him instead of next to him.

Stan grunted. "Ehh."

"Okay."

"Hey, Kyle?"

"Mm?"

"Wanna race to my house?"

"_My_ house," Kyle corrected with a grin and a nod. Stan was more athletic, sure, but Kyle had the Sobriety Advantage, so they could be rather evenly matched. They got into 'position.'

"Ready, dude?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah! Let's run!"

"We'll run," Kyle smirked. "And never stop!"

And without further warning, Kyle was running off down the snowy, moonlit sidewalk, leaving Stan to trip in surprise and fall on his ass. With a burst of energy and competition, he scrambled to his feet and took off after the redhead, yelling triumphantly when he caught up and tackled Kyle into someone's lawn. Snow went flying.

Kyle scowled and started complaining up at Stan, who was sitting atop him and pulling Kyle's cheeks out like they used to when they were kids.

Kyle was ticked for a while afterward, rubbing his cheeks gingerly, but Stan was laughing and he eventually joined in. Stan had forgotten all about his resolve to kiss Kyle, and this was his reason:

He couldn't' even imagine feeling any happier than he did right now, just being with his best friend.

--

Heh-heh-heh.

The reason this was so long was because I knew what point I wanted to end it, and I didn't want to cut it short because there happened to be a lot more happening before that point than I thought. So yeah. Mega like double-sized chapter. 13,244 WORDS!!!

By the way, I'm thinking of cutting Cartman out of the romance altogether. I care about my characters more than I care about them being in an amusing plot, and I'm not going to force Wendy and Kenny and Cartman to get involved in a triangle that obviously isn't working for them. So I guess you could consider this a Kenny/Wendy fic, now. :\


	6. The Unavoidable Changes

Umm...this chapter may be more dramatic than humorous, but there are some issues in my heart that I really need to work out right now. You see, for me, writing this fic is like therapy. I feel run out...I miss my childhood, and I miss the adulthood that I can't have yet even more. I hate adolescence. I'm not a screamer, so I need to scream inside my writing, so to speak.

But anyway, you guys really do make me feel a lot better. Even if you're not reviewing...keep reading, allow me to share. I'd like to think there is someone out there who may understand me. To those who do review, you guys are the world to me. :D

Ngh...I also solemnly swear to do my best not to let my angst seep into this story (well, individual character angst will happen...I meant I'll avoid generally angsty situations.) This is purely a feel-better sort of tale, so I...I'm gunna try to do just that. K?

I'm liable to make some mistakes in keeping with the show since I've only seen like six episodes of it and not the movie. So let it slide if you can.

IBB: Hey! It didn't take me ten thousand years, after all! XD Unfortunately I don't think there's much good imagery in this chapter, but there is plenty of Kenny/Wendy. :) I loveeee youuuu ( btw, did you ever get that drawing I did for you, of Kyle failing at cooking? It's on DA.

LC004: YAY IT'S YOU. Oh hay 8D I think if you were waiting for Kyle/Stan loving you may be happy with this chapter. ...Sorta. xx btw, I really appreciate the comment about Stan's emotions being believable. I don't wanna take this too fast, but I also think that if I take it too slow it won't make sense, because stuff like this happens FAST.

PhoenixII: Thanks to you again. Btw, I will catch up on your story, I promise. (heart) Love

Lumina-Lin: Are you crying now that I updated? ARE YOU? You said you would, you said you would!! (whines) Just kidding. I love your reviews for real, and I love you too :'D Keep on reading!

Fletset: Oh, yeah...I guess Cartman has grown up a little bit. (heart) I like him better as a silent asshole, too.

asteriskin': you know what's funny? I love you more and more each chapter, too!!! Oohh your reviews (heart) (flails happily)

blockofthewritingkind: Wow, thank you so much! You put me on alert at the perfect time, because I'm just about to post this chapter! Hehe. (smile)

* * *

**METhOD 06: The Unavoidable Changes**

"I cannot say whether things will get better if we change; what I can say is they must change if they are to get better." –George Lichtenberg

* * *

"Oh, well," said Satan. "What's this, now? I'm positive I didn't have you down for at least another two or three days..."

Brushing ashes from his face and idly fondling the squishy bullet hole in the side of his head, the blonde boy stood and shrugged.

"Sorry, it got crazy and...you know how it is." He pursed his lips as Satan yawned.

"Not particularly, but I've no complaints. I did say you're always welcome..."

Kenny flashed the reddish dude a characteristically bright, crooked-toothed smile and chuckled at the raised eyebrow he received. "Thanks, but hey...there is a reason I came down."

"I'm dying to know," Satan replied.

"I died to tell you," Kenny's gaze shifted to the fiery ground for a moment. Oh, those lame-ass jokes. I almost burst out laughing but my cover would have been blown. Technically, I wasn't supposed to be down here.

After a quick stop, the pseudo-dead kid laughed nervously and started again. "I thought maybe you'd help me out...kinda..." he paused, trying to figure how to word this as pleasantly as possible: "Uh, well, maybe tweak some stuff that happened...y'know, maybe it'd be cool if some, um, stuff...maybe slips Eric's mind, and...well...uh."

Satan frowned and rubbed the spot in between his eyebrows, alleviating a bit of his confused tension.

"Sometimes, Kenneth," he said evenly, "I wonder if the only reason The Universe put you in Hell is because your virtues were lost somewhere in between the stuttering."

"Huh?!" Kenny stopped, eyes wide. "Wait, what?"

"...Yes, yes." Satan sighed. "I can assist you."

"Sweet..." the blonde chewed his lip apprehensively. "But not for free...?"

"Well, certainly not." The devil shot him an eerie smirk. "I am Satan, after all."

Kenny fidgeted a bit. "Not my soul, though...right?"

"Oh! Oh! Do spare me your grossly exaggerated tales. I never understood what could make you ridiculous mortals think I'd ever want your souls." He frowned, truly contemplating. "Nasty, useless things, they are. I'd much rather have something like love notes written in grade school..." there was a glint in his eyes that Kenny didn't like. "The embarrassment potential is of satanic levels! But souls...no...how boring..."

"I don't have any love notes," Kenny muttered, that being the only thing he'd really heard of what had been said.

Satan looked at him as if he were insane. "That is not what I'm asking of you. For something of this magnitude..." His eyes glazed over in thought. Kenny waited patiently.

"Mm?"

Satan narrowed his eyes and snapped his fingers. "I have it!"

Kenny gazed at him expectantly.

"Your compensation for my 'tweaking' of 'certain events' is..." Satan smiled blithely. "Five rounds of mini-golf with yours truly."

"Oh, hell!" Kenny moaned. "Take my soul instead!"

Satan frowned. "Six rounds it is, then."

Before Kenny could protest further, another Satan walked into the room with a big smile, two stubby clubs, and two golf balls; one bright teal, the other hot pink.

"Choose your poison," the second Satan joked and Kenny wanted to cry.

"The...the green one," he decided, moping pitifully.

Satan-two handed the unhappy boy the teal golf ball and one of the clubs, leading the way to the first putt-putt course in Hell.

--

"Stan...Stan, open your eyes..."

He did, looking around. He was in Kyle's room, in Kyle's bed; a little nervous, a little excited.

"Ky...?" His voice felt so distant from himself. "Where...wha?"

Then Kyle was above him. The fact that the other boy really was there, that he wasn't just imagining the voice, made Stan feel insanely relieved.

"Hey, dude," Stan muttered, smiling dreamily. Kyle only frowned down at him.

"Why did you drink, Stan? I'm disappointed in you."

Stan's spirits sank a bit. "I didn't mean to..."

"Really? You really didn't mean to?" Kyle didn't believe him, judging by that tone and expression.

"I'm sorry. Don't be disappointed in me. It wasn't my fault."

"You really worried me, dude," Kyle pointed out angrily.

Kyle was worried about him...

"Oh..." he replied dumbly. "I...uh."

Kyle leaned down, still frowning. He brushed Stan's bangs out of his eyes and their gazes were locked. Stan felt rather naked, having Kyle's mystery-colored eyes study him like that.

"Um." Stan swallowed. "Kyle? What?"

Kyle's frown loosened a bit and Stan was given an uncertain half-smile.

"Don't do it again...I get nervous. I don't want anything to happen to you. Dude," Kyle's smile became more genuine. "I really care about you."

Stan couldn't speak, but his mind was screaming: I feel the same way! I feel the same way!

"And..." Kyle continued, voice lowering. "I'll be really upset if anything bad happens to you..."

Stan frowned, grunting, and felt his eyes begin to water. "Shelly..."

Without any words being said, Stan knew Kyle understood. Kyle always understood him – nobody else really got Stan as well as he did. Stan only wished he could understand his best-friend that well, too. Then maybe Kyle might –

"I'll always be here," Kyle assured him quietly, leaning in and pressing his lips to the tears escaping Stan's eyes. "I told you I'll make everything okay. We'll all be okay in the end."

"I don't wanna," Stan muttered, his thoughts jumbled up and coming out wrong. He reached out and hugged Kyle down to his chest, and he was relieved to find Kyle didn't seem to mind. "I'm okay right now, right?"

"Uh-hm," Kyle affirmed, touching his shoulders. "You're okay."

Stan squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm really okay like this?"

"Yeah, Stan..." Kyle kissed his closed eyelids.

"I'm not wrong, am I?"

"God, Stan," Kyle laughed, trailing kisses down his face, to his lips. "You're perfect."

Stan's eyes snapped open and he shoved Kyle away, hard. "_Don't!!_"

But Kyle wasn't there. It was just blankets.

"Oh...my god," Stan heaved, whispering into the heavy comforter muffling his face. A dream? It was just a dream. A stupid dream...

"Stan, you awake?"

"Uh!" Stan jumped, sitting straight up and groaning. He had a slight headache, and he felt nauseated, but he usually felt at least a little nauseated for one reason or another anyway. "Hey..."

Kyle gave him a strange look and walked into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"You feeling alright? You totally passed out as soon as we got to my place."

"Actually...yeah." Stan frowned, flexing his shoulders a bit and looking to the side. "Uh, I should probably get going, huh..."

Kyle's jaw dropped so fast, Stan almost thought it might've flown straight off its hinges.

"Dude, are you kidding me? It's like three in the morning! Why don't you just stay the night?"

"I could," Stan answered quickly, not wanting to seem too eager to get away, but he only ended up raising more of Kyle's suspicion. Thankfully, he figured, he could still get away with blaming his behavior on the alcohol.

"Well..." Kyle frowned hesitantly, setting his hand on Stan's shoulder. Stan didn't dare respond to the warm touch. He was in it so bad!! Kyle quirked his mouth and squeezed his best-friend's shoulder. "If you really want to go home, I guess I could walk you."

"No!" Stan squeaked, the shoulder under Kyle's hand jerking sharply. "I – uh – I mean, it's - ...maybe I should stay in bed a little more, or something."

Kyle was silent for a while, then he removed his hand from Stan's shoulder and laughed kindly. "You're being even weirder than usual, dude," he observed. "Must be the alcohol."

Stan laughed nervously, lowering himself back into a lying position and bending his knees up somewhat.

"Hehe...yeah..." he swallowed over a dry spot in his throat, not daring to look up at the handsome eyes he just knew were peering at him in waiting. "Must be."

He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, though he didn't know why. He was just about as uncomfortable with the dream-Kyle as he was with the real one.

--

"Oh...damn." Kenny muttered as his teal ball bounced against the turning windmill and came right back to him instead of making it through the tunnel. He poked at the ball in annoyance. "You're serious?"

"Yes, very serious," Satan replied from his spot on the other side of the windmill tunnel. He'd cleared this hole a long time ago. He was beginning to think that playing mini-golf with such an amateur was more of a punishment for himself than it was for Kenny. "Your friend is very much infatuated with that Jewish boy."

"I shoulda known, I guess," Kenny said, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth and frowning as he prodded the stupid ball up to the tunnel manually. It was his 34th stroke on a par-3 hole, but hell if Satan had ever mentioned anything about having to play the damn game _well. _"How does Kyle feel, though?"

"To be honest, I don't believe he's even given it a thought." Satan paused, and added with a tricky smirk: "...Consciously, at least."

Not thinking too hard about it, Kenny raised his foot and kicked the teal ball straight through the windmill tunnel. It came out the other side and knocked around the edges of the green a great many times. Satan glared at the ball.

"You're terrible at this," he remarked. "Next time, I think I'll just have you do my dishes."

"Dish duty sounds way better than this," Kenny said. After putting the ball unsuccessfully a few times, he bent over, curtly picked up the teal monstrosity, and dropped it in the hole by hand. He straightened up and narrowed his eyes at Satan. "What's my score on this hole?"

"I'd hazard a guess at forty-four or forty-five," Satan sighed, shaking his head. "Forty-quadruple bogey."

"That's kind of awesome, isn't it?" Kenny looked at him hopefully.

Satan frowned. "You must have realized by now that the point of 'compensation' in Hell is solely to make you feel bad about yourself."

"No fucken' way," the blonde sighed sarcastically. "I'm 'repenting for my sins' by having it shoved in my face that I suck at golf."

Satan nodded solemnly.

Kenny shot him a brief, nervous smile. "Hey, is there a water fountain around here? It's really hot..."

"Not on your life," Satan replied simply. "We don't drink water down here."

"Hardcore," Kenny muttered as they reached the site of the next hole. "Have any idea what's gonna happen to my friends, man?"

"I am no man," Satan harshed, setting his hot pink golf ball down to the starting point and putting it into an obstacle so that it bounced neatly into a wall and then rolled straight over to the green by the hole. "And certainly no fortune-teller. All I can tell you is that they're not due for the afterlife for quite a while."

"Ah, well." Kenny shrugged, swinging at his own ball casually. It clunked against the very same obstacle as Satan's had, but instead of ricocheting into the wall and then rolling over by the hole, it merely bounced straight back. The blonde frowned. "I sort of feel bad for Wendy."

"Wendy?" Satan asked idly, putting his ball straight into the hole. Now to wait for Kenny to figure out some absurd, rule-breaking way to get his own ball inside. "Is that your friend's girlfriend?"

"Stan's, yeah," Kenny affirmed, guiding his ball around the obstacle with the toe of his shoe.

"Well, she'll be fine." Satan folded his arms. "You're all too young for this to really matter so much, anyway."

Kenny paused mid-nudge and gave him a weird look.

"What? Too young? But what if one of them died and that was all they had to take with them?"

Satan stared at him blankly. "Then I'd most likely end up playing a much more productive game of mini-golf," he answered.

Kenny, still frowning, went on with his against-the-rules golfing. That was such a weird comment. Too young? He understood what Satan was saying, but it still bothered him. A lot. Did that mean he still had to grow up before he was at all worthy? ...Did the mere fact that he and his friends were teenagers mean their emotions weren't good enough to be considered real emotions yet?

He didn't like feeling so patronized, but he didn't really have a good argument against it. Besides, this was Satan. Maybe the guy was just trying to make him feel bad, just like he'd said.

"Oh," Satan spoke up after a moment, having had no idea what was going on in Kenny's mind other than how much he hated golf. "If you want a girl to feel bad for, you should take a look at this. It may prove interesting."

And with that, the putt-putt course, the clubs, the balls – everything – disappeared, and Kenny found himself standing in the middle of blackness, with only a square-ish screen before him. Like a movie, he watched as the world above took place before him. Without him.

--

Bebe screamed into her pillow for the sixth time. Hands balled into fists, she pounded her mattress mercilessly as she did.

"FAGGOTS!" She yelled into the bed. "I hate you all! Fucking faggots! Dirty freaks, nasty, sicko faggots!"

Hot tears rolled down her face and into the pillow. She threw her fist into the bed again.

"I hate you! All of you! Aghhhh!"

She rolled over and clutched the pillow tightly over her face, muffling her sobs. "Stan Marsh, you fucking fuck! You fucking freaky, sicko gay-fucking asswipe homo FUCK! UGH!"

More and more angry, incoherent, useless curses spilled from her pretty lips. Anger had to get out somehow, and this had been building up violently for a long time, now.

"You fucking gay-ass homewreckers, ruining EVERYTHING for EVERYBODY."

She paused and there was an odd silence. Then:

"I hate you! I hate you all! You damn faggot, you took – you took him from me!"

She sobbed into her pillow for at least twenty minutes, muttering angrily about faggots and fucks and fucking faggots.

"It's not fair," she told herself as she looked into the mirror sometime later. "It's not fucking fair. Why is – Why is everyone...what did I do? What did I ever do to them?"

"Wasn't I good enough?" She yelled at herself. "Weren't we good enough for him?! Why did he have to go and – and turn into THAT?!"

"FOR NO REASON!"

Both she and her reflection agreed: there was something cruel and unjust in the world that did not want her relationships with men to be normal. And how horrible that something was.

With an irritated, closed-mouth scream, she grabbed her mirror by the edges and hurled it across the room. It shattered noisily and that was when her mother knocked open her door.

"Bebe!" she cried. "What the devil are you doing?!"

Bebe turned to her and glared. "It's your fault! You weren't good enough, were you, mom?"

"Bebe..."

"WERE YOU? It's your fault, and now I'm the same way! The same fucking way!"

Her mom looked at the ground briefly before she stepped inside and tried to approach Bebe.

"Don't touch me!" Bebe screamed. "I've had so more than enough of you and your fucking luck! I'm turning into the same thing, I - I HATE YOU!"

"BEBE!" her mom hissed, stopping. "Calm down! You're being irrational!"

"No, I've had fucking enough of being CALM. All that's done for me is – is nothing! My boyfriend – I was so, so perfect to him, wasn't I? I was! I was! Fucking left me though, for no reason, and now he's hanging all over that stupid-ass brainwashing faggot - !!!"

The older woman frowned, a great amount of pain crossing her features as she carefully put her arms around her daughter.

"So. Fucking. Wrong. It's always the same – always the fucking same with me, has to end up so shitty and - !"

"Shh," her mom said softly. "Bebe, it's not your fault."

"Mom, it's fucking shitty, I'm so fucking – aren't you fucking sick of it, mom?!"

"It's not your fault," the woman said again. "It wasn't my fault, honey. There isn't anything wrong with me, or you."

Bebe took a while to calm down, her head resting against her mom's shoulder as the woman rubbed her back.

"He's an asshole, mom," she mumbled. "God, what a fucking asshole. I just don't see why he had to do that to us."

"It's okay," her mom assured her. "I promise someday you'll understand. I hope no more mirrors are broken along the way," she added, glancing warily at the mess on the other side of the room.

Bebe tensed up a bit, pulling gently out of her mom's arms and looking up at her.

"Sorry," she said. "I...I won't...do it again..."

Her mom gave her a small, sad sort of smile.

"Your dad called today," she spoke softly. "He says 'I love you, Bebe-bear.'"

Bebe kicked the wall and sank into a crouch, starting to cry again. This time, there was hardly any anger – mostly just sadness and confusion. How twisted. How twisted.

She really hated the world sometimes.

--

"Um," said Kenny.

Satan lifted his eyebrows and waited for further response. Upon receiving none, he shrugged.

"Well, your request has been put through. There should be no negative repercussions with Eric Cartman concerning the state of his belongings and your party." He paused. "That had been what you were asking for, yes?"

Kenny blinked at him dazedly, and it took a few moments to respond.

"Oh, uh." He frowned. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks."

Satan seemed unimpressed. "I take it you'd like to return, then."

Kenny looked down at the ground.

"Yeah, guess so."

BUUF! In a short burst of flame, Kenny found himself sitting in his own room, surrounded by a black circle of soot.

"Shit," he muttered irritably, standing and brushing ashes away from his face again. "Forgot I come back here every time."

He unlatched his room window and hopped outside (he was on the first floor.) Running away from the little ghetto of South Park, Kenny aimed for Cartman's house and didn't look back. He didn't want to deal with family things, not after seeing that whole fiasco. Maybe Eric could distract him - he knew the boy was supposed to be back from Denver by now. It was ten in the morning, Sunday.

"Hey..." he greeted quietly, to nobody in particular as he entered the Cartman residence. From further inside, he could hear clearly the passionate ups and downs of some new piano piece. Kenny smiled to himself and nodded politely when Liane walked through the foyer and waved at him.

He knew not to bother Eric when he was playing. The boy had a mad sort of passion that almost bordered on insincere...too oriented toward a different goal for it to purely be a musical thing. Eric, because he hated talking to people more than he had to, found a way to socialize without having to deal with others. That was in his music, probably; those ups and downs were comically reminiscent of a conversation. It was a conversation that Eric could fully control.

Eric really hated opening up to people. He was sort of arrogant like that; not trusting anyone else to be part of his conversations. Kenny supposed it also made the boy a genius, but that didn't mean he was remotely fun to be around.

No, Kenny decided; he admired Eric Cartman, but he'd never want to be like him. Kenny needed people too much.

He wandered back outside and noticed one of the neighbors was doing some winter gardenwork (with flowers that thrived in the cold.) He saw that the old woman was uprooting and tossing away some that looked like they would make a garden rather lovely. He had to wonder at this.

"You don't want those?" he asked the old lady. She turned and looked at him, a bit taken aback that this young boy was speaking to her.

"They're weeds," she explained wearily. "I've no need for 'em."

He stared at her. "Oh...weeds? Those are weeds?"

"Yessir," she replied, standing and patting off her hands on her thighs. She was dusty and dirty, but Kenny found he could relate to that, so he didn't mind so much. He bent and picked up some of the weeds, dirt hanging from their wide, clumped roots, and inspected them.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "It's not ugly or anything..."

The old woman laughed softly, going about her business as Kenny went on his way, weeds still in hand. (No, I agree. They really looked like flowers, especially from where I was standing.)

There was so much going on, all of a sudden, that Kenny felt a little annoyed for being so concerned with his personal troubles recently. Stan and Kyle had some kinks to work out between them, Wendy was probably going to get her heart broken, Bebe had major issues, and Eric had a lot of things he was sacrificing his own well-being to take care of, and of course Kenny had been no help to any of them.

He was wondering if it would be a good idea to die more often. Even though he'd end up having to play mini-golf or do Satan's dishes, at least he'd always have the opportunity to catch up on what his friends were going through. Satan always seemed willing to share the information. Not that he was friendly; he just had no sense of respecting people's privacy.

Hmm, what a day this was turning out to be!

--

As it turned out, a few more hours of sleep was exactly what Stan needed.

"Mmmgh," he groaned, just coming back to the waking realm. He yawned behind closed lips and wiggled his toes inside his socks, buried warmly underneath a lot of blankets. He frowned and shifted a bit. A LOT of blankets.

Sweaty, he pulled them off of himself, but the room felt just as hot. He moaned in exasperation.

"Kyle?" He called, and Kyle appeared a few seconds later, curiously. When the redhead peered into the room and saw Stan was up, he grinned widely.

"Dude, hey." He walked over to the bed and put his hands on his hips, looking down at Stan's uncomfortable expression. "Feel okay now?"

"Eh," Stan shrugged half-heartedly and then squinted. "I'm hot, dude..."

"Naw!" Kyle dropped his hands from his hips and giggled stupidly. "You're sexy, dude! _Caliente_, dude!"

Stan moaned as if in great pain and rolled over onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow and pulling his knees in. He muttered something incoherent and angry-sounding into the pillow and wiggled a bit, as if asking Kyle to Let up, okay?

Kyle sighed and shoved Stan over.

"We can move to the basement if you're that uncomfortable," he said, half-smiling down at the dark-haired boy lying on his side and curling in on himself like a cat. It also added to the humor that Stan was looking up at him like a kid who'd just touched a hot iron and had no idea why it burned so much.

"Sure," Stan agreed uncertainly and Kyle nodded.

"Oh..." Kyle frowned. "You don't need help walking or anything, right?"

Stan snorted and stood straight away, perhaps too fast because he felt a little dizzy and almost lost his balance. Kyle's eye twitched and he laughed quietly.

"Okaaay, but be careful," Kyle said genially as he walked out of the bedroom first. "I don't wanna see you hurt yourself, 'kay?" He snickered, actually kind of liking the images that idea had produced. What? It was pretty funny. Stan had potential for a future of physical comedy.

Stan didn't move for a great many seconds, staring at the doorway Kyle had just left through. What Kyle said...that was...like his dream, wasn't it? Weren't dreams supposed to be reflections of reality, anyway?

He frowned, sniffing as he padded on out, following the redhead down the stairs and down another flight to the basement. If only they were real, huh? Just thinking about that dream-Kyle made his heart speed up a bit and his hands feel a little clammy and his face sweat some. Oh, how stupid he was being! But at least, in the basement, the temperature was considerably lower, and it was helping him calm down. He didn't want to freak Kyle out.

"Want some juice?" Kyle asked him, already comfortably seated on one end of the leather couch. He had the remote for the TV in his hand, idly flipping through channels. He quickly decided on cartoons, though he didn't seem too interested in them. Neither was Stan, honestly. He was more interested in watching Kyle.

(How gay.)

"Sounds good," Stan nodded, taking a seat way on the other end of the long, L-shaped couch. He blinked. Was it just him, or did Kyle seem disappointed that Stan hadn't sat next to him? No, it was probably just him.

"Orange is fine?" Kyle inquired further, setting the remote on the glass tabletop and standing. Stan smiled a 'yes.'

Once Kyle was back upstairs, Stan sighed and dropped down on the couch, lying on his back and crossing his ankles on the armrest. He folded his arms behind his head and stayed like this for a while – until he realized that he was freezing his butt off.

"Ugh," he complained, turning on his side to face the back-rest and folding his legs up for warmth. Dammit, was there no happy medium?!

"Stan?" Kyle was back. "You okay?"

"Cold," he said, and Kyle grunted noisily. Stan could hear the 'clack' of what he assumed was a glass of juice on the table.

"Tough-effin-luck," Kyle said in a low voice. "You're a big boy...you can handle it." With that, Kyle plopped down on the couch, next to Stan this time. Stan turned his head and could see Kyle's thigh right by his face.

"...Thanks a lot," Stan groused, slowly sitting up. He stared at the other boy dazedly. Kyle was just watching the TV, but he seemed distracted.

Kyle caught on quickly and glanced at him. "Huh?"

"Uh, nothing." Stan folded his legs Indian-style and leaned back into the couch, trying to get comfortable even as his heart banged rapidly against his chest. He closed his eyes serenely. "Just thinking about how _nice _you always are to me."

Kyle's eyes rounded and grew wide. "I hope you're not being sarcastic, dude!"

"Nooo..." Stan overtly gazed at the ceiling.

Kyle gasped. "Stan, you can't be serious! Just because I didn't rush to – what do you want me to do, bring you a personal radiator??"

Stan laughed noisily and Kyle smirked at him in irritation, stifling a yawn. He was glad Stan didn't seem too worried about the rumors at school anymore – that they were back to being best-friends. He'd kind of missed these playful arguments.

"You should have!" Stan insisted, as if it weren't a totally ridiculous request. "Or warm me up some – other...way." He stopped and his face straightened out strangely. Kyle blinked, not really comprehending what had suddenly freaked Stan out so much.

"Uh, 'kay." The redhead gazed at him in wonderment. He couldn't believe how dumb Stan could act sometimes, and just for attention, too. "What, you want a hug?"

Stan's face darkened a bit and he laughed nervously. "No, I didn't say that."

Kyle cocked his head and folded his arms. "You suure?" He teased, and Stan barked:

"Yes!! God, Kyle, you're such an asshole."

Kyle laughed and shoved Stan's shoulder playfully. "Tell it to someone who cares," he said. "Stanley Marsh, you don't deserve a friend like me."

Stan joke-pouted and scrunched his nose up, baring his teeth and shrugging. "Nyah."

Kyle laughed tiredly, just noticing how he and Stan had turned on the couch and were facing one another, now. He let out a heavy breath and dropped forward with another exhausted chuckle, forehead resting on Stan's shoulder. He didn't think about it, but because he'd been worrying over Stan and hadn't slept at all last night (there had been a good special on TV, and he'd done his homework, too,) he was now feeling the consequences, and he just about fell asleep right on top of his best friend.

Stan didn't dare to move, caught completely by surprise. He inhaled deeply to steady himself, and some of Kyle's hair tickled his nose.

"Kyle, you okay, dude?" He wondered, feeling very bad. He hadn't even considered how Kyle could be faring through all this.

"Uh-huh," Kyle mumbled sleepily, his breath warm on Stan's upper arm. "Sry...jus' tired..."

Stan had to fight from shaking with excitement. This was too weird, he decided. But he really, really liked the closeness. He wasn't too awfully cold anymore, and he thought that maybe he'd like to stay like this forever. It was kind of silly of him, sure, but he often felt like the world was too big of a place for someone like him and he sometimes wanted no part of it. This was one of those times. This little world in Kyle's basement was just fine with him, even if that meant he'd have to live off of one glass of orange juice for the rest of his life. With Kyle this close to him (willingly and decidedly conscious, that is,) how could he complain?

"Kyle...?" Stan tried again, quietly. He shook Kyle a bit, but the redhead was pretty much out of it. That was, until Kyle pulled away from him and went to lie down on the other part of the lengthy couch.

"I'm takin' a nap," Kyle announced in between parts of a yawn. Stan nodded, feeling cold again.

"Kay," Stan said.

"Jeez, I'm so tired," Kyle added, as if the other boy needed to know, and rolled over, one arm and one leg hanging off the edge of the couch. Stan couldn't stop himself from smirking.

"Then quit talking and sleep, dude."

"Yep," was the slurred reply, and then there was no noise other than the cartoon on TV. Stan watched Kyle sleep for a while before he shifted his eyes to the television. It wasn't often that Kyle let down his guard like this (yes, Stan considered taking a nap without being under a blanket to be letting down one's guard.)

The dark-haired boy sat there and dazedly wondered why everything felt so disjointed, and why he was feeling so generally romantic. Maybe there was something in the air today.

He eyed the glass of orange juice on the table in front of him, and, deciding that his hope for staying in this little world with Kyle was ridiculous, deemed it appropriate to use up the resource. Besides, thanks to Kyle, his mouth was all dried out, and he was rather thirsty.

After emptying the glass, he licked the last bit of sweet juice from the corner of his mouth and sighed heavily, bouncing up and down in his seat out of boredom. What now? He looked at Kyle again and wondered what time it was.

Deciding he was too lazy to go look for a clock, he reached over to the other side of the table and picked up the remote. He flipped through the channels for a while, wishing he had any interest in television right now. If only there were something else to do...

He stopped flipping when he reached the Food Network and decided to watch as some chef who looked a lot like a dark-haired Kyle showed the audience how to make fantastic glazed chicken.

Interestingly enough, it was an entire hour later that Stan realized he was positively starving. He'd only eaten half a burger the dinner before and a few chips at Kenny's party. It had to be near lunch time, and he hadn't eaten breakfast, either.

He considered waking Kyle up, then decided he didn't want to be mean and that Kyle looked really sweet when he was asleep, then, from that, decided that he'd wake him up after all, because it crept him out to be sitting there and consciously thinking that Kyle looked cute.

Stan shuffled over and crouched down on the floor so he was level with Kyle's face. He jabbed his index finger into the redhead's cheek, and he felt Kyle jerk slightly.

"Mmm?"

"Hey, aren't you done yet?" Stan asked him.

"Mm."

Stan jabbed his face again and Kyle frowned, turning his head and snorting loudly. Stan laughed at him.

"Dude!"

Kyle opened his eyes halfway and sent Stan an unfocused glare.

"Mmmthe fuck?" He wondered, yawning and rubbing his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger. It was too bright in here, even though Stan was blocking most of the light –

Whoa, Stan was so close.

"What the hell do you want?" Kyle wondered irritably, not happy with being woken up. HE had let Stan sleep as much as he wanted earlier, so why couldn't Stan have returned the favor?

Stan frowned and leaned back a little, almost losing his balance. He was still crouching.

"Sorry...uh, if you're still tired, go ahead..."

Kyle scowled and sat up, hair sticking up funny, glasses crooked, and eyebrows all messed up. "Well, I can't now. Might as well tell me what you want, now that I'm up," he said, still looking pissed off. Stan almost regretted waking Kyle up when he wasn't ready, but he knew Kyle was always a waking-puissant no matter when it was he got up.

"Well, I was just, uh...kinda hungry, is all."

"Fer chrissake," Kyle groaned. "You could've just gone upstairs and grabbed something." He yawned and stared at Stan in a sleepy half-daze. The other boy fidgeted.

"Guess so," he laughed. "Aw Kyle...you're a big boy, you can handle it," he mocked.

Kyle scrunched up his nose and shook his head side-to-side in a 'ha-ha very funny' sort of gesture. Stan laughed at his expense.

"I'm gonna get a blanket," Kyle announced, standing up. "It is kinda cold down here. Stay there," he commanded as he bounded inelegantly up the stairs, and Stan mindlessly complied.

"HEY DUDE!"

"AHHH!" Stan jumped back and knocked his head against the glass tabletop. He switfly fainted, cueing Kyle to rush over and give him the kiss of life. Not really. Only the hitting of his head actually happened.

"I-ke!" Stan gasped in surprise as the hyper kid jumped high over the edge of the couch and landed with a 'poompf' on the leather cushion next to him. Ike made a funny face at him.

"Wassap!" the kid demanded to know, and Stan laughed anxiously, still startled.

"Um, well." He rubbed the back of his head and winced. "Nothing much."

"Yeaaah!" Ike struck a dumbass cool-kid-in-middle-school pose and screamed like a wannabe heavy-metalist. Stan winced again. "'Nothing' is what is going ON!"

"Jeez! You're so weird, Ike!" Stan cried out, scrambling to his feet. The kid started hopping around on the furniture as if in a video game. Stan swore, one of these days, Ike was going to seriously hurt himself like that.

"IKE!" Came Sheila's voice from the floor above. "Don't bother Stanley!"

"I'm not, duuude!" Ike struck that same cool-kid pose and then gave Stan a toothy grin. "Right?!"

"Uh, sure."

Kyle, holding a folded blanket with a banana atop it, came down the stairs and promptly smiled at the scene. "Ike, get the hell outta here," he said.

"Why?" Ike smiled back sweetly.

"Cuz I don't want you around. 'Sides, you and Stan look too much the same and I might get confused."

"Ugh. I don't look anything like that guy!" Ike wailed, and 'that guy' shot him an unappreciative look.

"You say something, Stan?" Kyle asked Ike, and the kid screeched in frustration. What a hyper little bro, thought Stan, wondering how Kyle had ever gotten used to it.

"Don't call me that, grr!" Ike bent over and got into a very video-game-ish fighting stance. Kyle threw the blanket and banana onto the couch and bounded forward, kicking Ike in the ass and sending the boy stumbling to the ground.

"Dude, not cool!" Ike growled, trying to stand up, but Kyle jumped over and pinned him down. He reached up and tickled his adoptive little-brother, who started screaming in laughter and protest. Stan watched silently as the brothers tussled.

"Ow! Okay! Okay! I'll go now!!" Ike said between laughs, hardly able to breathe. Kyle was giggling insanely, too.

"Get outta here, eh!" Kyle said, watching as the flustered boy scuttled away and up the stairs. The redhead then stood and turned to Stan, his cheeks stained red from exertion, laughter shining in his eyes. Stan felt awkward as his heart jumped a bit.

"You guys are hilarious," Stan commented from fear of the impending awkward silence. Kyle shrugged good-naturedly, hand (accidentally?) brushing the side of Stan's leg as he walked past his best friend, to the couch. Stan looked at the ground for a moment before eyeing the banana.

"That for me?" He wondered hungrily, and Kyle grunted 'yes.'

Stan frowned as he peeled it and took a big bite from the top, chewing slowly. After he swallowed: "Thanks, but I was thinking maybe something more like...meal food."

Kyle turned and looked at him. "I'm gonna clean up and we'll go out to lunch."

Stan smiled brightly, with bulgy cheeks - not showing teeth due to the second bite of banana in his mouth. He swallowed.

"Yahoo," he said lamely and Kyle smiled back.

"By the way," Kyle said as he moved to go back upstairs and 'get cleaned up.' "You might wanna call your house and tell 'em what you've been up to. Also, tell your mom we'll head over soon so you can change or whatever."

Home.

Stan frowned and tossed the half-eaten banana to the table, looking at it solemnly once Kyle was upstairs. Home. He felt so comfortable in Kyle's company that he'd totally forgotten about it.

He actually doubted they even had missed him. Rather, he doubted they'd had the extra energy to spend worrying about his absence. He often stayed over at Kyle's place...and besides, his family had bigger things happening right now.

He scratched his head nervously and glanced at the staircase, sitting down on the couch. He wished Kyle would come back down soon. He already felt lonely.

--

Kenny was lost in thought by the time he reached the park, and he was surprised to find it before him when he did snap back to reality.

"What now?" He asked himself, taking the sidewalk leading into the snow-covered park. The trees were kind of pretty, even though they had no leaves. It was just one of those things. Kenny had always had an appreciation for the beauty of unbeautiful things.

He walked along the dirt path for a while and then stopped, looking down at the frozen creek running alongside it. He wondered if there were little things living under there. There was big life like him and Wendy in plenty of places, but small life was _everywhere_. It really put things into perspective, especially to someone who didn't understand the idea of death in its entirety. That had something to do with his not-being-able-to-die and a bit more to do with the fact that he was still too young to really comprehend the concept of a finite existence. He was sure that most of his peers were that way, too.

By the way, the reason his thoughts had included Wendy was because she was sitting on a bench nearby. He only just realized this consciously, surprised with the strength of his focus (or maybe lack thereof.)

"Hey," he said, walking over. She looked up at him vacantly and, after a moment, gave him a small smile.

"Hey, Ken," she said.

"You doing okay?" He wondered. She looked sort of sad.

"Yeah..." was her vague, unconvincing answer. "I'm fine, thanks."

He shrugged. "Okay."

Their thoughts wandered away from each other, though they remained in that position: Wendy sitting on the bench, Kenny standing some two yards before her; both looking at indiscriminate spots on the ground. It was a comfortable enough silence, though.

After a few minutes, Wendy cleared her throat softly.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Kenny grunted. "What?"

"About last night...it wasn't really my business."

He frowned and tapped his foot. "No, it wasn't, but..."

Wendy looked at him and he donned an unenthused smile.

"But, well, don't apologize. I'm actually thinking I owe you one for it."

"Oh..." She giggled. "Starting to see things my way?"

"I have no idea," he replied honestly, and with an amount of seriousness in his tone that Wendy was rather surprised. "I don't really know how I'm seeing things anymore. Maybe I'm not even seeing at all."

She frowned; "What do you mean?"

"...No clue," he replied quietly, laughing in embarrassment at his dorkiness. Wendy huffed and a cool breeze ruffled her hair, sending it into her face. She pulled dark strands out of her mouth with a slight frown. Kenny smiled.

"I prolly shouldn't think about it too much," he continued. "Maybe we're not supposed to think about anything."

"No, I think about everything," Wendy declared, then smirked demurely. She hadn't meant to sound so arrogant, but at least Kenny didn't seem offended.

"So you were thinking about something before I came, huh?"

Her expression turned to one of subtle distress. "Uh-huh."

"Wanna share? I promise I won't tell anyone."

She made a face. "Thanks, but it's not really a huge secret."

"Mmhm?" He prompted, having fun. "So...?"

"Eh...you know. I was just...I was thinking about Bebe, and I think I'm being kind of insensitive. She has a...tough situation, you know?"

"Not really..." Kenny frowned, trying to understand. God, did Wendy ever look pretty with her cheeks all flushed from the cold.

"Well, trust me on this, okay?" She said, and Kenny had the strange urge to do just that. She continued: "Also, I dunno about me and Stan."

He was silent for a moment, and then he cleared his throat as he looked up to the heavens, discomfited. He was thinking about what Satan had told him. "Oh, yeah?"

She looked up at him helplessly. "I probably shouldn't complain. Things are supposed to change, aren't they?"

"Only if you want them to?" Kenny guessed stupidly.

Wendy chuckled. "Good advice."

The blonde boy looked at her, startled. "Seriously?"

"No," she smiled. "But I appreciate the thought."

Kenny played with a dirt spot using the toe of his shoe, thinking. "So you think things are changing between you and Stan?" He couldn't help sounding a little hopeful.

She picked up on it, but she didn't mind too much. "Yeah, I kind of think he's not into me anymore."

"It's probably not your fault," Kenny assured her.

"No," she replied with a shrug. "It's definitely not my fault. I just don't want to force things to stay the way they are just because I want to fight something as natural as change." She paused. "But does that mean I don't really love him as much as I thought?"

Kenny didn't want to just up and tell her that was exactly what it meant, so instead he hummed quietly and held out the plant in his hand.

"For you," he said, and she looked at him in surprise.

"Weeds?"

Kenny turned a darker shade of face. "How the – I could've sworn these were flowers!" He lied. If I had been in Wendy's place, I probably would have thought they were, too. I'm not remotely interested in plants, you see.

She laughed into her hand. "Are you serious?"

"Fine!" He said, embarrassed. "If you don't want it, I'll give it to someone else!"

"No, come on," she giggled on. "It's alright, I do want them. C'mon, please?" She coaxed, and he eventually handed over the floweresque weeds, the dirt still hanging from the clumpy roots at the bottom. It was the freakiest bouquet either one of them had ever seen, but Wendy kind of liked it. She, too, had an appreciation for the beauty of unbeauty.

"Mmm," she closed her eyes and inhaled from the top of the weeds deeply, pretending. "The scent is so delicate."

"You're making fun of me," Kenny muttered.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thanks, Kenny. I do feel better now."

"Uh-huh," Kenny said, and then smiled back, finally daring to sit down next to the girl. He spent much of the next few minutes wondering how the hell he'd managed to make her 'feel better,' fairly proud of himself nonetheless.

--

Meanwhile, Eric Cartman sat at home, before his piano. He thought that having Kenny out for a while would have helped his concentration, but...

For some reason, he couldn't concentrate as well without someone distracting him all the time.

Was that messed up? Not that he cared.

"Mom," he asked as he walked into the kitchen. His mom was making stir-fry.

"Oh, hey," she greeted with a sweet smile, and he grunted.

"Where's Kenny?"

"I saw him earlier...he must have gone out again."

"Oh, okay." He shrugged. As long as Kenny hadn't run away and joined a traveling freak circus (alongside bearded ladies and Siamese twins) as the only male lesbian in the universe, he didn't really give a fuck where the kid was. You know. Basically, it was okay, as long as Kenny was going to come back eventually.

Yeah, yeah. He could wait a little longer for his necessary distractions.

--

Later that Sunday found Wendy, Bebe, and Red sitting together on Bebe's porch. What? I have no idea how _that_ happened...you know as well as I do that I follow them around way less than, say, Stan and Kyle.

Wendy was hardly surprised when Red declared Kyle's official break-off from an unofficial relationship.

"It's okay," Wendy sighed. No, it wasn't weird at all that the three most unlikely friends in all of SP High were sitting together and having a moment of girl bonding. They had all been played in some strange way (intentionally or not) by the same boy, so they had common complaints. Complaining about a guy was what girls tended to bond over, anyway.

"Yeah, it's fine," Bebe said, rubbing Red's back in an attempt to comfort her. "He was a fag to begin with...it's not your fault."

"I don't think we should use that word," Wendy said with a frown, and Bebe huffed. Red wasn't paying attention. She was too occupied with her own thoughts.

"You...you're sure I'm not the one who turned him gay?"

Wendy interrupted: "You know, he never said anything about being gay."

Bebe looked at her.

"But he _is_," the blonde said simply. Wendy looked at the ground, having no argument to that. The more they talked about it, the easier it was to acknowledge it. Kyle cared about Stan a lot, she could tell. Maybe it was better this way. And besides...

She smiled to herself, glancing furtively at the flower-ish weeds sitting on the stoop next to her, out of the other girls' direct eyesight.

"Wahh..." Red fidgeted, thrashing mildly in frustration. "I don't get it! I'm so...good to him! I was even willing to go all the way...if he...wanted..." She groaned into her hands and sniffled.

Bebe scrunched up her nose and Wendy frowned in disapproval, but neither said anything.

"I know exactly how you feel," Bebe said quietly. "It's so retarded. You'd think guys only turn gay when they've had bad experiences with women."

Honestly, Wendy didn't like this conversation. She thought their approach to Kyle's and Stan's supposed feelings was rather shallow, but she excused it on the account that they were trying to justify their extreme feelings of victimization. They actually shouldn't be feeling this ill-treated about it. Wendy truly believed that neither Stan nor Kyle had _asked_ to break this many hearts and then fall for someone of the same gender. She didn't hate the two boys for it at all. She kind of...felt bad for them.

Not that she'd ever voice these things to the other girls. They'd attack her for sure. She prayed for the patience to get through this session of mutual consolation, because she knew the other two needed someone more stable to help them get through this. She touched her weed bouquet lightly and sighed.

--

Next day was a pretty normal Monday morning. Nobody was sick; nobody was in a terrible mood. In fact, most of the kids seemed to be in higher spirits than usual, especially considering the fact that it was Monday.

Aside from the fact that Stan was shifting and fidgeting a lot, Kyle really had nothing to worry about today. Kenny looked rather happy, and Cartman was...docile, which was really the most anyone could hope for. From the seats ahead of them, Kyle could hear much chattering about the 'awesome party on Saturday.' He was surprised to see that Kenny wasn't even listening. He must have had something really important on his mind. Kyle wondered if he'd finally gotten a girlfriend, or something. That would be kind of awesome.

"Wendy and me broke up," Stan said out of nowhere, and it took Kyle a moment to even acknowledge the rather HUGE statement.

"...WAIT." He laughed and frowned at the same time, turning in his seat to face Stan. "Okay, okay, hold on. What?"

Stan gave him a strange look. "I just said Wendy and me broke up."

"Oh, whoa..." Assuming that Wendy had been the one to incite their separation, Kyle wondered if this was why Wendy had asked what she had on Friday night, in the coffee place. "I – I'm sorry about that, dude."

Stan shrugged. "Aw, no. It's fine...I wanted to break up, anyway."

Kyle pursed his lips. "Oh?" Then why had Stan been so shaken up when he thought Kyle and Wendy were getting it on?

The dark-haired boy laughed nervously. "Yeah, guess it just wasn't working out or something."

Kyle smiled. "It happens."

So they were both bachelors again. It felt cool, Kyle had to admit.

"Holy...okay, something is definitely wrong," Stan said, when they were inside the school. Kind of distracted, Kyle frowned.

"What? Why?"

Stan's eyes widened and he gestured wildly at his open locker, looking (in Kyle's opinion) like a total retard.

"Dude, it totally just opened! It didn't even creak or anything!"

Kyle shook his head. "Someone must love you today," he remarked sardonically.

To Kyle's surprise, Stan said nothing, merely looking away and gathering his books. He looked sort of embarrassed. Kyle chalked it up to Stan not being as over Wendy as he claimed, and the redhead felt guilty again.

Stan shut his locker and they walked in silence. Kyle groaned inwardly. Why'd he have to say it that way? He forgot how emotionally sensitive Stan could be, but at least he wasn't claiming the end of his existence and trying to go Goth.

"Seeya," Stan said shortly as he turned into the History room. Kyle chewed on his lip and blinked after Stan's back. He went on to Creative Writing, hoping Cartman wouldn't bug him today. He wasn't in a bad mood, but he definitely wasn't feeling too patient.

The next class period, Kyle moved along to the History room, feeling kind of sleepy. Stan flashed him a brief grin as he rushed along to his next class, but Kyle did manage to catch Wendy.

"Hey, Kyle," she smiled, looking a little anxious. "I take it Stan told you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Is that why you asked me that question the other night?"

She blinked, and then her face strained in recognition. "Oh, actually, no. Then, I thought I wanted to stay together, and I do care about him, but you know. I just don't think we were working romantically. I only realized it this weekend."

He folded his arms and leaned against a vacant desk, nodding in interest. "Things happen fast, I guess."

"Oh, God," she sighed deeply, thinking about her morning in the park with Ken, and the weed-bouquet. "Do they _ever_!"

He smiled fondly as she rushed off to her next class.

Kyle was growing increasingly sleepier as the next few minutes dragged on and on. He'd almost completely forgotten about the penpal thing over the weekend, but now he found himself morbidly curious to see what Mr. E was up to. Maybe it was something less stagnant than Kyle's life at the time. (How could he call this _stagnant??_ He really had no clue. For some reason, he felt like he was trapped in a difficult place.)

He yawned noisily upon logging into his inbox account. Resting the side of his face on his hand, he clicked on the new message.

**Hey, TOD...how are you?**

**a lot of stuff has happened to me since the last time we talked...i don't think i can even explain all of it. well you were at the party on saturday, right? i think our entire grade was there...so i accidentally drank some punch i didnt know had alcohol in it and ...i dont really remember what i did, but i think I mightve said some stuff to my best friend that i shouldnt have, you know, because she was there. she was pissed at me but I dont think she is anymore. i dunno, shes just awsome like that. i felt better after a while, so dont worry about that part.**

**im freaking out because my sister's come back from university and i guess her boyfriend's been hitting her. i wanted to ask my best friend for help but im too damn scared to talk about it in person...my sister's never been really nice to me, but that doesnt mean i wanted her to get into shit like that!!! i just dunno what im supposed to do. i dont know if i can even do anything at all. **

**and what else, my girlfriend and me broke up. i think she knows how i feel about my best friend, and i guess i should be happy she understands, but...i cant really explain why, but i cant say anything to my best friend about it.**

**but ive been acting like a total idiot around her and im worried shes gonna notice and get freaked out. i stayed over at her place on saturday, and i think i cant do it anymore because im really going crazy. just watching her tickle her brother made me sort of jealous. i mean, i cant think about it or ill just get depressed. cause i don't know if ill ever really get to feel that way with her because we're always just 'best friends.' **

**sorry this was so long...hope your not bored. thanks dude.**

**Mr. E**

**P.S. i think im gonna give up chess, haha. it really is too hard for me.**

Kyle was sitting up straight at this point.

"Whoa," he said after reading it over again.

That was not a coincidence.

This was _no_ coincidence.

Kyle closed the window and raised his hand, waiting for Mrs. Cox to come over.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" he asked once she did. She nodded,

"Of course. Go ahead."

When he got there, he was pleased to see it was otherwise empty, and he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet. Before he could even let himself think about this for real, he needed to wash his face. There were doubts and a part of him that wouldn't wash away before, and now he felt like they finally might. This was really the moment when he could say he was moving onto a different stage in his life. He splashed the cold water onto his face and felt more awake than he had for months now, and he knew this must be another step into adulthood. It was refreshing. It was scary.

He grabbed some towels and dried his face. Gripping the edges of the sink tightly, he bent a bit and stared at his reflection for a while.

"So," he said, and his reflection said it back at the same time.

He didn't necessarily want this to happen, but who in their right mind ever wanted change, at first? Looking at himself, he saw what Stan probably saw every day, and he wondered: How the hell could Stan feel the way he claimed to feel? Kyle didn't really hate this person in the mirror, but he didn't find the boy looking right back at him to be particularly...lovable. It was difficult to understand, but he would try.

"Stan," he said. This was what Stan saw whenever Kyle called his name.

He shuddered a bit and laughed at himself, letting go of the sink and standing straight. This was the short, skinny redhead standing before him that Stan admired so much. This was the same guy that Kyle himself had convinced Stan he was in love with.

"Nah," he said lightly. Not 'convinced.' More like 'made to acknowledge.'

He did find it possible to believe the person he was looking at was a person Stan really did feel that strongly for.

"Maybe," he said. The boy-in-the-mirror's eyes grew a bit wider. He'd washed away the dust of one part of his life and now he could see a little clearer. Maybe it was time to change, after all.

Kyle was relieved to see that the boy in the mirror was smiling back at him.

No, it wasn't so bad that Stan loved him. He probably loved Stan, too. He had to do a bit of soul-searching first, but he was pretty sure he did.

--

After one rather uncomfortable hour of sitting next to Red in Trig, Kyle confidently went along to the lunchroom.

He wasn't really too hungry. What he was excited to do was see Stan, now that he had this new knowledge. He was excited to see everything differently than he'd been seeing it for the past few months.

"Hey guys," he said, plopping down in the seat next to Stan. Kenny shot him a jelly-filled smile and the redhead made a grossed-out face. Kenny giggled.

"Hey," Stan sighed, popping fries into his mouth one-by one. At about five, he actually started chewing. Kyle wanted to observe his best-friend, but he didn't really want to make Stan uncomfortable. Besides, he was thinking of keeping up the TOD thing for a while. He wasn't telling Stan he knew...not yet. He wanted to help Stan work out his issues through the email thing; not immediately chase Stan away by saying something as monstrous as 'Oh by the way, TOD is me.'

Though it would be funny to see Stan's face if he did, but whatever. Eventually. For now, he was going to make his best-friend understand that it was okay to talk to him about his problems.

"So, you look happy," Kyle said, smiling at Kenny, who looked back at him quizzically.

"Uh, yeah." He smiled slightly but said nothing about his thoughts, especially as he hadn't heard that Wendy and Stan were no longer together. He'd be glad when he found out later, though. "You look kinda happy, yourself."

"Aw, just in a good mood," Kyle said.

Stan still hadn't said anything. The redhead turned and knocked his knee against Stan's leg for attention, and the dark-haired boy looked significantly more nervous. Oh, yeah. It was so obvious now.

"Something wrong?" Kyle pretended to wonder, sending Stan his most winning of smiles. Stan glanced at him and glanced away, then looked back. Their legs were still touching. Stan shifted uneasily.

"Nope," he said, frowning. "Uh, Kyle...what's up, dude?" His tone implied he could tell the other boy was up to something, but the redhead just shrugged.

"It's nothing," Kyle said. He couldn't lie to himself and say this was only about making Stan squirm. He was also kind of...getting off...on their touching legs. I couldn't begin to tell you how fun this was to watch from my booth on the other end of the lunchroom. I wish I could have been sitting closer but I would have been conspicuous.

Stan shifted again, eyes darting away as he lifted his slushie to his mouth. Kyle looked at Kenny (dunno why) and then at Stan and leaned over, reaching for the drink. Instead of taking it, though, he wrapped his hand around the one Stan had around the cup and tilted the cup toward himself. He caught the straw between his teeth and took a quick sip, his cheek brushing Stan's as he did.

Stan put the cup down when Kyle let go, looking seriously buggered out. Kyle restrained the urge to laugh. He was flirting with Stan...it was so obvious, but he knew the taller boy was so afraid of Kyle figuring out his 'secret' feelings that he'd never call him on it.

"What? Did I do something?" Kyle once again pretended to wonder.

Stan's face had turned nearly red. "No..." he forced out nervously.

Kyle laughed and pulled his leg away from Stan's, deciding to leave him in peace. Stan was so funny. Stan was really, really cute. Stan liked him...a lot.

He had to wonder how he hadn't seen it before, but he didn't let himself get caught up in it too much. This was his time in life to take risks...he could think about the past later.

Change was definitely happening and it wouldn't do him any good to be afraid. Curiosity may have killed one cat, but old age had killed all the other ones! He smiled to himself, knowing he would much, much rather be that one adventurous cat who died a little bit early than any of the others who wasted their time sitting around, afraid.

By the way, at this point, Kenny had stolen at least fourteen of Stan's fries. That's what you get for letting your crush distract you, dude.

-end ch6-

11,113 words. Woohoo, and to think I was worried I wouldn't have enough material for this update.

For some reason, this chapter feels really retarded. Well, I couldn't think of a better way to go about it, because as feelings are revealed, it's kind of hard not to get a little more serious in how you write. And I hope you guys don't hate Red or Bebe too much. They're just a little a little immature at this stage in their lives. Red's too obsessed with Romance and Bebe's got abandonment issues because of her father. See...I don't want this to be one of those I HATE SOANDSO fics, you know? There's too many of those on FFnet, and I think, at the age I'm writing them to be, there's no reason for anyone to be worthy of your hate. Confusion is a dominant theme in this story, if you haven't noticed yet :'D

Guys, please support me! In my five years of writing fanfiction, I have never, NOT ONCE, completed a chaptered fic. I HAVE HIGH HOPES TO FINISH THIS ONE AND I NEED YOUR HELP IF I'M GONNA MAKE IT. I have fear-of-finality issues. Might have to do with being a perfectionist.

I think the worst part must already be over. O.o But...please review...I put a lot of myself into this chapter and besides, I'll love you forever and for longer. :( Sorry again if it was stupid though. I'm just in this really, really weird...philosophical mood.

Incidentally, I HATE MINI-GOLF!!!


	7. An Unfortunate Circumstance

I wish I had been raised to believe in a God, but I wasn't. I'm terrified of everything at this point and I wish I had someone who'll tell me it'll be okay, but I don't trust anyone enough that I'd believe them. Oh, well.

Reviewers...no responses this time, unfortunately. I had written some, but my computer decided to be a FUCKING RETARD and turn itself off again. Yeah, I'm pissed. Not at you guys though.

x.o!!! I do love you all very much and I wouldn't be worth a penny without ya ;D Thank you to those who finally reviewed for the first time, and I LOVE YOU to those who've been here all along. Great :D

* * *

**METhOD 07: An Unfortunate Circumstance**

"True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights." –Erich Segal

* * *

That evening was the mid-Winter choir concert: Songs to Warm Your Heart. The unfortunately-named concert was a combination of performances from the men's choir, the women's choir, the concert (co-ed) choir, and handfuls of soloists. The choristers were all, as always, asked to arrive forty-five minutes before the scheduled performance...to get their outfits from the costume room, and get warmed up.

Bebe was definitely not in the mood for this. The only reason she'd even taken choir was because it was a total blow-off class, and it guaranteed her to be put in third lunch, with her friends. She was changing shamelessly into her dress in the middle of the empty choir room (everyone else was hanging down the hall, by the costume room, backstage, snack tables, et cetera.)

"I just wanna fuckin' get this over with," she growled, fumbling uselessly with the zipper running along the back of the black nun-dress. She was beginning to feel desperate, wondering if she should just get the hell out of here and skip the concert.

Ch-chnk.

She turned at the sound of the opening door and frowned.

Chnk.

"What?!" She demanded, glimpsing the bored smirk on Eric Cartman's face.

He lifted an eyebrow at her state of half-undress and shrugged. She quickly yanked the shoulders of her dress up to place, sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"What are you standing there for?" She asked, considerably more passive. The outcaste, chubby freak (as she saw him)...hmm. Hey, nobody would know if she were to...tease him a little. "Are you going to help me or what?"

Eric didn't move. "With what?"

She straightened up and lowered her eyes. "I can't get my zipper up."

He laughed, loud and short. "Kiddin me? I wouldn't touch you if you paid me!"

Eric turned and pushed the door back open.

Ch-chnk.

Bebe flushed and stared after him as the door slowly came shut.

Chnk.

What the fuck!?! But she was...she was hot! Hadn't guys always fallen over themselves for her? Especially Eric Cartman...the fat loser who couldn't get a girl...and now he was acting like she was the undesirable one?

Did they think she'd turn them all gay, too?!

She screamed inside her throat and reached back, ignoring the pain as she twisted herself right enough to pull the damn zipper up on her own. She stomped out the door, black pumps clicking loudly on the floor as she went. The hallway was empty but for Cartman, who was walking slowly along.

She came up hastily on his side and growled:

"And why the fuck not?"

He glanced at her in mild, disinterested surprise. "Hm?"

"I said why the fuck wouldn't you touch me?" She elaborated, and he had to snort at her wording.

"Well, Bebe," he started matter-of-factly, "I will not deny that you are physically desirable, but I'm afraid you are sufficiently lacking in the ability to attract me..."

She frowned slightly. "Wha?"

He stopped and gazed to the side thoughtfully. "Oh, I guess you could say you're a stupid ho' and I, in fact, wouldn't tap that."

"Augh!" She clenched her jaw as Cartman left her there. "Fuckin' fag!"

He waved his arm dismissively, not turning around as he continued to walk. "No, that's your ex. Very sorry about that, by the way!!"

And he disappeared around the corner. Bebe kicked the wall gently and glared at her scuffed pumps. Oh, fuckin' hell. But at least Kenny still thought she was pretty, didn't he? He had to!!!! ...Right?

She didn't bother stopping to wonder if she was getting desperate. There was a retarded performance to attend.

--

The next morning, Kyle was in a pretty good mood. He'd been incessantly elbowing Stan and then immediately denying it in a very Craig-esque manner on the bus, and though the taller boy was now rather sore in the ribcage-area, he was enjoying the attention.

Except, even though he was enjoying the attention that Kyle had started loading on him in inexplicable HEAPS, it was still making him really, really nervous. Something was up. Something was definitely up.

Stan just couldn't figure out what, and the fact that he was lost in thought when he shut his locker and turned to find Kyle was _right_ there, those grayish-greens gazing unflinchingly at him, _again_, made him forget what he was going to say in the first place and look away just as fast.

"Dude, sure there isn't something wrong?" Kyle asked from behind him, as Stan had started walking right as soon as he'd looked away from the other boy. He could hear a smile in Kyle's voice and a trick in his tone. Dammit...this was making him so uncomfortable! What was Kyle up to??

"Yeah!" Stan sighed, exasperated. He paused in front of the open History classroom and looked at Kyle dubiously. "Seriously, nothing's wrong. I'll see you later, okay?"

Kyle smiled affectionately and Stan shivered a little, turning to enter his class. Mind-games played through as planned, Kyle chuckled to himself and went along. Maybe he'd tell Stan sooner than he'd planned. It was fun to make the guy uncomfortable, but Kyle was getting surer, with each passing moment, that he did want to at least try being in a more intimate relationship with Stan. He would be willing to keep it under wraps, too, as he guessed Stan might want.

"Stan!" Wendy waved him over when he entered the room. They only had a few minutes until the bell rang, but whatever. He went over to her desk and looked at her.

"Have you been doing this e-mailing thing right?" She asked him straight-out. He was scared for a moment, but decided quickly that, even if Wendy did know about his conversations with TOD, she wouldn't dream of ratting on him. She wasn't uptight about stuff like that, especially with her friends.

"Uhh...why?"

She frowned in thought. "I think I might have been doing it wrong this entire time."

He laughed shortly. So...she didn't know. He didn't know why that disappointed him, and he didn't want to think about it. "Wendy..."

Her frown turned into a careful smile and she chuckled, as well. "Not that you'd care! Hehe."

This was true. Stan never cared about anything that had to do with schoolwork, unless it was also something to do with not embarrassing himself in front of Kyle.

"Alright, guys, calm down." Mrs. Cox looked annoyed today. Stan quickly went over to his seat and watched attentively, anxious to take their usual trip to the media center. "Let's go, and remember to bring your textbooks tomorrow." A few students at the front of the class were set to groaning. "We're finishing this thing up tomorrow, so you're going to have bookwork again."

Stan fell into deep thought as they went down to the center. He hadn't realized the 'project' was already this close to being through...he kind of wondered if the accounts would still work after the project was 'closed,' and thought that TOD might still talk to him after school or sometime even without the obligation to during History.

He took the computer next to Wendy and logged in.

_Hey, Mr. E._

_Whoa...that was one packed and loaded letter, dude._

_I'm not sure what to tell you, you know? I mean, shit, that's a lot of really personal stuff you've told me. Not that I mind, because I'm here whenever you need to get that stuff out, but I guess I wasn't expecting all...of that...at once. Heh._

_I'm really sorry to hear about your sister...I wouldn't know for a second how to deal with it, but I have heard that what you should do is give her space. I'm guessing (if she's an older sister) that she wouldn't want to be coddled, or anything. Something to do with pride. Or maybe that was arrogance...?_

_As far as your best friend goes...dude, it sucks that you feel that way :-( But who's to say you don't have a shot with her? I guess I've felt that way before, like when you have your first crush in middle school or whatever, but I'm pretty sure that's always how you're supposed to feel anyway. Think about it, okay? You may just be protecting your feelings by telling yourself things will never change between you and her._

_Hey, I'm kind of going through the same thing, too. With my own best friend, actually. It's not that much of a coincidence...I mean, it is normal to fall for your best friend at some point in your life. No, it's not weird at all, and the funny thing is, my best friend is a guy. Major stuff there, huh:-P But you're a pretty cool guy, you understand, right? Personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with it. What do you think?_

_Uh oh...you're not going to stop talking to me because I like a guy, are you?_

_Hoping,_

_TOD_

Stan's neck was aching and uncomfortable.

So.

TOD...was gay? Stan was seriously jealous of how easily he admitted it! How could anyone be that confident? He almost felt like TOD might have known...beforehand...that Stan's best friend was actually a guy, too.

Nah.

But all the stuff he'd said! This meant he could forget being afraid and tell TOD his best-friend had been a guy all along, too...right? Then maybe his pen pal could finally produce some _useful_ advice on how to approach this.

But he didn't want to just up and say it. He was really embarrassed of what TOD would think of him for being too ashamed of himself to admit something like that. Which would have been pretty strange if he'd bothered to consider it, but he didn't.

Thusly, he typed up a generic 'hey, it's cool that you're like that' response and logged out along with everyone else so they could return to the classroom.

For some reason, Kyle came really early to History, and Stan was still there by the time he arrived.

"Hey, dude," the redhead sent him that same, big grin he'd been using since yesterday at lunch. It was unnerving.

"Um," he greeted, smiling back.

Kyle laughed quietly to himself and then walked to stand by his seat, looking at Stan with a casual lift of the eyebrow. "What's up?"

Stan frowned. "Uh, nothing."

Nothing was said for a moment. When Kyle noticed that Stan had spaced out, he clicked his tongue and caught the other boy's attention.

"What's this?" Kyle 'wondered;' "Spill something?" He frowned in disapproval, pointing to a spot on Stan's shirt.

Stan looked down to check whatever Kyle had been pointing to. Kyle then smirked and flicked his wrist, flipping Stan's nose.

"Got-cha!" He sang happily as Stan slapped a hand over his nose, utterly mortified.

"Jesus Christ, dude!" Stan hissed, face dark with shame once he'd realized that Kyle had played such a juvenile trick on him...and succeeded. "Why're you being such a retard??"

Without waiting for an answer, Stan grabbed his stuff and left the classroom, rubbing his nose in badly-hidden embarrassment. Kyle laughed and waved after his best-friend, still smiling to himself as class started.

--

6th hour: PE. In the locker room, Stan found himself barely able to acknowledge Kyle's half-naked presence as a consequence of having already acknowledged Kyle's half-naked presence _way_ too much in the first four seconds they'd been there. (...) Kyle would have felt bad if he wasn't too busy feeling amused and picturing, in his mind, the moment he'd tell his best friend to quit putsying around and kiss me, you fool...or something equally as unlikely for anyone to ever actually say. By the way, if you're wondering how I got into the boys' locker room, I'd probably ask you to just stray from the topic. No, seriously. Please don't ask.

--

You may be interested to know that there did exist, as a matter of fact, more 7th-hour classes than just Football and Arts. Peer Counseling (more accurately known as The King of blow-off classes) happened to be taken by all three of Eric Cartman, Kenny McCormick, and Bebe Stevens.

Kenny, as usual, was sitting in a 'counseling' session with Eric, which consisted of Eric writing, listening to music, and ignoring the other boy until he felt the need to talk about himself. Kenny was always quite fine with this. It left him room to think. Perversions and all, Ken was still a very thoughtful boy and he was comfortable around his friend, however incompatible the two of them seemed.

It was not so much a Give-Take as a Give-Give-Give, Take-Take-Take relationship. Still, it suited the two of them well. Eric gave; Kenny took. If they, for whatever unsound reason, had been gay together, there was really no questioning who would be in what position and who's what would be placed where.

This is what Kenny found himself thinking about as Eric listened to Modern Classics of Piano on his not-an-ipod mp3-player and scribbled words down on paper, sitting Indian-style on the ground beside him. It wasn't that Kenny was really attracted to Eric, or even gay at all. He was just willing to think about anything that had to do with sex.

Oddly enough, even considering everything that he'd been feeling and that had been happening, he'd found himself completely unable to think unclean things about the one girl that had been on his mind recently.

Incidentally, that 'one girl' happened to very much _not_ be the girl who had been bugging him since Counseling started.

"Are you still mad about Saturday?" She sighed heavily, as if to tell him to Get Over It. "I was out of my head, Ken!"

He shrugged politely. "It's cool, Bebe. Nothing's wrong."

"Yeah, Bay-Bay," Eric interjected in an obnoxious _howdy-boys-and-girls!-I'm-Kenny-on-helium_ falsetto. "I only take it up the butt from guys, but it ain't no thang!"

Bebe and Kenny both looked at him. Wow, what the hell? He hadn't even smiled while saying it! He couldn't possibly have been serious after adopting _that _tone?

Ignoring Eric's strange comment, Bebe scooted a little closer to Kenny and pouted.

"Kennyyy!" Her voice was painful to the ears. "Can't you just give me a chance?"

He glanced at her, unable to say 'no' to a pretty face like that, however strangely she was contorting it in an attempt for emotional appeal.

She took this as a sign that he was interested, and she giggled softly, attitude lightening up quite a lot. "Look, I know we kind of had a bad start for things, but I really do like you."

He opened his mouth but it took him a few moments longer to fathom a reply. How straightforward girls could be!

"Well, thanks," he said, at a bit of a loss. Eric made an indifferent noise in his throat and neither Bebe nor Kenny bothered to wonder why. There was probably no real reason, anyway.

"I'm not trying to come on too strong," she continued merrily; "But...think it'd be cool if we hung out sometime?"

He glanced at her and then gazed away to stare without focus at something on the other side of the comfort-driven room. "Uh, what do you mean?"

She leaned back, resting her weight on her hands and stretching her long, bare legs out before her. She smoothed her short jean-skirt and leaned sideways enough that her shoulder rested against his elbow.

"I'm going to get over Kyle," she declared, then paused; "No...I AM over Kyle. I mean I need someone else, now, you know?"

Kenny frowned and nodded as if he understood, and he did, though not in the way she probably was wishing. He understood, alright. He understood just how much she wanted to prove poor Kyle 'wrong' and how not-actually-interested in Kenny she was.

She leaned into him a bit more and smiled up at him dreamily, as if daring him to look down into her eyes and be captured forevermore in her inescapable beauty. Sheesh, she had issues.

"So, what do you say? Want to hang out after school?"

He glanced down at her, not, indeed, captivated by her in the least. "Today?"

She licked her lip and sat up straight, no longer against Kenny. She smiled at him. "Well, why not?"

He shrugged. "Okay..."

He'd much rather avoid conflict than have to say no, even to someone he didn't particularly like. Kenny had always hated that feeling of disappointing certain...people, in his life, so he'd grown up a bit of a people-pleaser and a practiced white-liar.

"God, you both have such fag complexes," Eric muttered loud enough for them to hear. "Seri-ously."

Bebe shot him a look and Kenny gazed at him tiredly.

"What the fuck, Cartman?" The yellow-haired girl wondered. "I'm a girl."

Eric looked up, catching her gaze straight-on. She felt her heart jump a bit from the shock, mesmerized by his wow-I-never-knew-they-were-so handsome dark-blue eyes. How scary they looked. She almost felt the need to twitch.

"So is Kenny," Eric stated simply, and just that fast, Bebe forgot about his totally hawt eyes. "You're two lesbians with one sad, sad complex for watching guys take it up the butt. I can see these things."

"What?!" She turned to look at the other blonde, horrified as she ran through her mind the possible female names that could be shortened to Kenny. Kendra? Ken-atasha? Ken-atalie? ...Lilak? (...Huh? I dunno either.)

"Eh," Kenny shrugged, not even bothering to deny it. In all honesty, he'd much rather spend three hours listening to nothing but Eric's beyond-ridiculous accusations than have to spend five more minutes as the object of Bebe's lame-ish flirting. She was pretty, but Kenny did have nonphysical standards, too.

Well, maybe not before, but ever since this weekend, he found himself fiercely un-attracted to anything not with black hair, not carrying around a clipboard instead of a binder because of an allegedly alien sense of ergonomic efficiency, not recently broken up with a certain totally-in-denial-that-he's-smitten-with-a-certain-redhead dark-haired boy, and anything not having stopped him in the hallway on Monday to thank him soo much for the 'flowers' and instilling in him a strong sense of self-esteem because she had, in fact, taken his gift to heart.

Indeed, he was quite completely taken by her.

"Wendy!!"

Kenny sat up straighter and waved his arm frantically, watching as the dark-haired girl stopped in the middle of walking down the hallway and looked around for the source of the noise.

"Wendy!" Kenny called again, and this time, she saw him. She appeared confused for a moment, but then she turned and walked over to the direction of the loosely-chaperoned Counseling class, all a-splayed about the carpeted, spacious senior locker area (just in front of the Counseling Office, if you would know.)

"Hey, so what class is this?" Wendy smiled calmly down at the boy after sending both Eric and Bebe a wary glance of marginal acknowledgement.

"Counseling," Kenny answered, looking at her just before he pretended to avert his attention to something else. Wendy smiled more brightly at this. Kenny acted a lot like Stan, actually. Polite, easily embarrassed, not theatrical in the least. That same sweet disposition. (Not that she was comparing them. Kenny was actually a little more...philosophically advanced than Stan was. From what she'd seen, anyway.)

"Ah-hah." She nodded. "Hey, are you busy?"

Kenny seemed to perk up like a little doggy. "No...why?"

"Well." Wendy gave him a strange look, like he was cute but was creeping her out nonetheless. He took a hint and sobered a bit. "I need to take some supplies to the Arts room, and it'd be cool if I could make it one trip...you know?"

Bebe stood up and gave Wendy a narrow-eyed look, perhaps making a silent declaration that whatever flimsy friendship they'd built from the 'heartfelt' gaybashing conversation on her stoop that weekend was officially over. Wendy didn't honestly care!

Eric made another noise in his throat. It was an amused and cynical gesture, but nobody could really tell.

"Oh, sure." Kenny looked up, feigning '_coolness_.' He huffed pleasantly; "Why the heck not?"

Wendy's lips pursed sideways in a fond and pensive look. The blonde boy blushed slightly and shrugged, implying that she could lead the way.

So she did, and the two grossly-infatuated-with-each-other persons were soon out of sight.

"Lesbians get jealous...fight." Eric muttered under his breath as he scribbled words quickly into his notebook. "Sapphic...pressured mucho! Triangle...breaking...society." He paused, looked over his writing, and started laughing noisily.

Defeated by Wendy in winning Kenny's attention yet again, Bebe sat back down and shoved her foot into Eric's ankle, effectively shutting him up – and yet taking a certain satisfaction in the annoyed look those dreamy dark-blue eyes had now set upon her.

--

So, here he was on a Wednesday afternoon with nothing to do.

Well, he had plenty to _do_, but nothing to really...accomplish. He'd met the secret (or so he thinks) object of his adoration at his locker after 7th-period, after having gone the extra mile in the locker rooms after Football to use the dispensable shampoo instead of the unscented soap for a body-wash, and then Kyle just had to go and tell him he had to talk to Red today and wouldn't be able to hang out with Stan, after all. And so there Stan was, sitting all gloomy-like on the corner of Whatever St. and Don't-Give-A-Fuck Ave., isolated in the middle of the residential neighborhood, with nobody around to notice that he now smelled like one big stupid green apple.

Who the hell used green apple shampoo, anyway? What was that stuff even doing in the guys' locker room, and what made it that much different from a red apple? He made a note to ask Kyle if that stuff had always been there, and if not, then to ask Had the girls' volleyball team been playing gay little jokes on them again?

But...I digress.

Looking back a bit, I could tell you that part of the reason Stan was letting himself get so irritated by the fact that he smelled noticeably pretty was that, as you may have guessed, Kyle wasn't the hell around to even notice. Stan had always been really insecure about himself, if you couldn't tell, and was now naturally under the assumption that Kyle and Red were dating and that he had been completely stupid to even hope that Kyle might have been flirting with him. If you've forgotten, Stan had no recollection of the time Kyle expressed his lack of interest for the red-haired girl.

He frowned and kicked at the pavement, watching snow soak into the fabric-y parts of his sneakers as he pushed the slush around. He yawned and nudged some of it into one of the runoff drains that were set along the roads in their neighborhood.

Feeling particularly poetic, he mused on the idea that each wet 'ssshplop' of slush falling into the sewer was symbolic of his hope for Kyle's returning his feelings being thrown away forever.

Etc, etc. I don't necessarily feel like going into his multiple strings of whiny emotional mourning, as we all know they'll be void in the end, anyway.

If Kyle had ever loved me, Stan thought, then this is how he must have felt when I first went out with Wendy.

Except not, because that stupid Red was at least sixty times more annoying than Wendy could ever be. But maybe he was biased.

"Stan..."

It was a distinctly male voice. Stan's heart fluttered happily and he turned his head with a bemused smile, only to be greeted by a decidedly blue-eyed boy.

"Hey, this is strange," Kenny laughed quietly, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and sitting down on the wet curb next to his bumming buddy. "What're you doing out here?"

"Nuthin," Stan sighed, too occupied with gazing longingly at the sewer drain to notice that Kenny's nose was wrinkling slightly.

"Did you eat...apples?" The blonde asked, making a light-hearted joke face. He could tell Stan had some stuff he obviously didn't care to be bugged about, and Kenny definitely didn't want his moody friend to go batshit on him, so he decided not to pursue the problem. Instead, he'd cheer Stan up.

Kenny was in a good sort of mood, just come back from a casual schmooze at the Testaburger place. Wendy's parents seemed to like him a lot more than they liked Stan (Ken hadn't bothered to explain that he wasn't Wendy's boyfriend (yet,) so they'd just assumed he was and had immediately interrogated him, having to be reassured of the fact that Kenny had no intention of deflowering their daughter. This, in itself, apparently put him two pages ahead of Stan in their book, which had left Kenny to wonder what the hell it was, exactly, that Stan and Wendy had done. Oh, well.)

"Dude, shut the fuck up," Stan moaned irritably, not needing to be reminded of the damn shampoo. Kenny shrugged. Right...definitely moody today. Kenny imagined it had something to do with, when he and Wendy had walked into the Arts room with supplies, the way Red had been begging a slowly-caving Kyle to have a 'chat' with her after school. At her house. Ahh...yes.

"Is this about Kyle, dude?" Kenny asked, amazed at how he was suddenly the more 'relationship-mature' one between the two of them. Well, not really. He was still too chicken to ask Wendy out, even though she was obviously interested. She seemed to like that about him, though. Agh...Kenny really needed to stop thinking about her!! "This little funk of yours..." he paused and distinctly smelled apples coming off of Stan, which made him want to laugh; "It has to do with him, doesn't it?"

Stan hazarded a side-ways glance and looked at the blonde dejectedly. "Nah, it doesn't, actually..."

Kenny shot him a friendly smile. "Except it actually does?"

Stan looked at the ground again and shoved his shoulder into Kenny's, eliciting a happy giggle from the shorter blonde. Stan gave Kenny a weird look.

"What's got you so damn happy?" he wondered.

Kenny shrugged. "Nooothin."

Stan blinked and frowned. "Oh, really?"

"Really." Kenny frowned back, scooting closer to Stan so they were huddled together in a weird way. "Hey dude, but if you need to talk about something, you know I can handle anything."

Stan smiled without realizing it. That was what Kyle had said some time back...

Kenny poked him in the side, only to receive an annoyed grunt and a disgruntled look. "D'you hear me?"

Stan nodded slowly. "I love Kyle."

Kenny sat back in surprise and this seemed to notify Stan to the fact that he had done more than merely _think_ the words.

"What?" Kenny asked.

"Huh?" Stan looked at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"What?" Kenny said back, looking equally as confused.

"I..." Stan frowned, and Kenny noticed he was starting to sweat. The blonde let out a strained laugh and shook his head, seeing that Stan was attempting to formulate a quantity of golden excuses for the rather inexcusable statement. Cause honestly...how many really different interpretations of 'I love Kyle' can you think of?

"Wait, Stan, don't talk." Ken said, feeling kind of bad for how nervous Stan was getting. "It's okay. I already knew."

Stan choked slightly and peered at him, looking trampled upon. "What?? No!"

Kenny clamped a hand over his own mouth and gazed at the sky, trying to fathom what to say that wouldn't freak Stan out.

After one extremely tense (albeit pleasantly apple-scented) moment, Kenny looked at Stan again, seeing that the taller boy was still staring at him expectantly and waiting for a 'final-blow' of sorts. You know...something like "Oh, dude, the whole school knows. They hate you." Or "there's a video of you jacking to Kyle's name on the internet." Not that Stan _had_...necessarily. Kenny wasn't sure if he could really put it past the beyond-hopelessly repressed sexual energy of his frustrated friend. But whatever.

"Well..." the blonde started, anxious with how Stan seemed to be hanging off his every word. "I dunno, dude. It's just...kind of obvious, I guess."

"Wait. Wait." Stan leaned in. "No, are you fucking shittin me?"

Kenny looked at him. "No...I mean...dude..."

Stan frowned as Kenny spoke:

"Dude, after the rumors, I think people've been watching you guys, you know...and..."

Stan turned his head away and threw up into the drain as Kenny continued talking;

"Well, I dunno. Nobody really has anything against it, if that's what you're worried about."

Stan, wiping watery vomit away from his mouth (he hadn't eaten today, thankfully,) stared at Kenny in fear.

"Does Kyle know?"

Kenny pursed his lips and turned his head a slight, silently saying that he didn't know. Stan dropped his head into his hands.

"Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck," he whined. "He knows, he's gotta know. That's why he's been avoiding me and suddenly hanging out with Red and shit."

"He's been avoiding you?" Somehow, Kenny found this hard to believe. If anything, it seemed like Kyle had been flirting with him, but maybe Stan's brain was messed up right now. He was a pretty paranoid guy.

"YES," Stan hissed, shaking slightly. Kenny put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Yes, fuck, Kenny, what am I gonna do?!"

"You're gonna chill, okay?" Kenny put an arm around him. "I don't think Kyle knows, and I don't think he's avoiding you. Besides, dude, I'm pretty sure he's not dating Red. Didn't you hear he told her to leave him alone at my party?"

Stan looked up quickly. "Did he?"

Kenny laughed. "Yeah, I'm positive he must've just gone over today to let her know for sure. She probably forgot he doesn't want her or needed a reminder, the stupid bitch."

Actually, Kenny had no idea, but again...he hated to be the one bursting bubbles. He didn't want to see Stan hurting in front of him; that was all, and the dark-haired boy looked like he felt a little better at Kenny's words (and his insulting of Red.)

Stan smiled weakly as a 'thank you' and stood up, claiming he needed to get home and finish some work. Kenny stood as well, nodding. Stan still looked freaked out as hell as he took off down the street to his place. Somehow, watching him go, Ken felt like he might've done more harm than good.

Uh...ya think?!

--

Meanwhile, on the other side of the neighborhood, Kyle was walking home from Red's house. He was pretty angry. He was in a pretty shitty mood, actually, now that he had the crazy girl trying to convince him that he wasn't gay. No, he probably wasn't fuckin gay, but he knew for a fact he was waaay closer to being in love with Stan than he was with her. It just kept escalating and escalating. That stupid girl just...could NOT take a hint. After he'd taken the time to offer her a chance to 'explain herself,' as she had originally claimed was her only intention, she had the gall to dress in that stupid whatever-ma-bob and grab at that sacred spot between his legs. WITHOUT WARNING. Wasn't that – wasn't that dangerous? She had probably scared the sex straight out of him! Now he was sterile! He'd never be able to have kids!

You'll have to excuse Kyle. He, like Stan, deals with stress by going off on the most useless tangents.

Anyway, he spent that evening on the computer, chatting with his internet friends. They were the only thing that could quell his temper at this time.

--

Thursday morning was a headache and a half.

Starting from the moment he woke up, Kyle was feeling not very much better. Actually, if he'd tried to stop being pissy for one second so that he could successfully evaluate the degree of his own pissiness, he'd probably guess that he was even more pissed off this morning than he'd been the evening before. That might have had something to do with the fact that he'd had a dream that was very much like an extreme version of his encounter with Red. I'd rather not get into the details of that dream, cause, shit, the real thing had been pretty extreme on its own!

"Hey guys!" Kenny said, altogether too happy for any of the other boys' liking.

"Hi," Stan said shortly, looking fidgety.

Cartman said nothing and Kyle merely glared at Kenny. The blonde boy took a hint, like fast. Scary, dude.

Stan looked to Kyle. "Hey, dude."

Kyle glanced at him and narrowed his eyes unkindly. "Hey."

The dark-haired boy laughed nervously, looking away and chewing on his lip. Kyle must know, and he hates me, thought Stan.

Kyle said nothing much on the bus, and Stan was unwilling to ask him what was wrong, for obvious reasons.

"Stan?" Wendy wandered over to her ex-boyfriend, who was alone by his locker. He glanced at her tiredly, surprising her with how exhausted he looked.

"Oh..." he blinked. "Hi, Wendy."

She smiled at him anxiously, leaning against the adjacent lockers. "So, no Kyle today?"

He shrugged, not looking at her as he shut his locker and they started walking to History. "Nope..."

Ah...she wondered what happened, but didn't ask. Stan didn't seem to want to talk to her at all before class started, the way he wandered over to his assigned seat and sat down, gnawing on his thumbnail and staring into space like someone who's lost his mind. She sighed.

--

_Hey Mr. E!_

_I'm glad you're okay with it, man. It's all cool._

_So, hey. I can't believe tomorrow is our last day on this project. Are you going to miss me? I'm going to miss you, dude, I'll even miss your messed up problems. :)_

_Anyway, since this is the second-to-last letter I'll write and your response will be your last, if there's anything you wanted to, you know, tell me, or ask me, then now would be the time to do it. No more secrets, alright? Haha!_

_Hope everything's going okay._

_TOD_

--

**TOD...**

**since this is my last letter and all, i guess i should tell you something.**

**this sounds really shitty, i know, but i think your the only person i can really talk to anymore. and...well...i was thinking, if we cant email anymore, would you mind if we still...you know...talked, some time?**

**i guess i think it would be cool to meet for real. is that alright? ill check for a reply tonight.**

**if you dont want to meet me...then...see you around, i guess. just in case i dont ever find out who you are, dude, thanks for everything.**

**Mr. E**

--

"Dude," Kenny started in awe, setting down his jelly sandwich for a moment to observe the two boys sitting across from him. Where the heck had all this tension suddenly come from? "You guys in a fight?"

Stan sipped dolefully on his slush, crouched forward over the table and staring at the countertop. Kyle merely shrugged, sinking his teeth into his gigantic apple and taking a ferocious bite off.

"Nope," was the redhead's answer. He was especially pissy right now because he'd just endured an entire hour of Red's hand creeping around on his thigh and fiddling with his hair when he was trying to focus on math. Not that he usually focused on math, but he'd needed something to distract him from the girl and that was the only logical choice.

"Uh-huh," Kenny replied, leaning in a bit to rest his chin on the back of his hand. "So what's with the silence, guys?"

Stan glanced at Kyle nervously, wondering if he was going to yell. Kyle shot Kenny a short look.

"Do I always have to be talking to you??" Kyle snapped unreasonably. "Maybe if you quit bothering me so damn much about stupid things, I'd actually _feel_ like talking!" He stood up and left the table, throwing his apple core into the garbage and disappearing into some other part of the cafeteria.

Stan continued to stare at the table and Kenny watched Kyle go, startled. Moody Stan was always somewhat expected, but...moody Kyle? Since when?

"Stan...?" Kenny looked at the taller boy, silently questioning. Stan sat up slowly, looking depressed as hell.

Stan didn't even acknowledge him for a whole ten seconds. When he finally did realize where he was, the boy made a small 'unng' noise and buried his face in his hands, massaging it tensely in a futile attempt to alleviate the stress.

"I think he knows, Ken," Stan muttered sadly. Kenny watched him for a while.

"Maybe..." he shrugged. "If he isn't cool with it, dude, then maybe he's not worth it."

Stan grunted a 'thanks' but still shook his head to himself. Not worth it? Yeah, right. Kyle was always worth it. Kyle was worth anything and everything.

"Dude..." Stan muttered, knocking his forehead into the table several times. "I fucken hate this, Kenny. I wish I'd never had that goddamn Mr. E thing."

"What?" Kenny tilted his head, and Stan looked up at him. The blonde was surprised to see Stan's eyes red and watery, and he felt his mood sink right along with the other boy's.

"History project...hard to explain."

Kenny feigned nonchalance, frowning in slight interest. "Did you say Mr. E? Like a guy named E?"

Stan shrugged. "Like I said...hard to explain. But yeah. Whatever."

Kenny exhaled heavily, in awe. Mr. E... Kyle had no idea what he'd done, did he? Kenny would have laughed if he didn't feel so bad. He poked Stan in the shoulder and tried to ignore the way he had to rub furiously at the almost-tears in his eyes. With a careful smile, Ken took the uneaten half of his jelly sandwich out of its baggy and set it before Stan.

Stan looked at it weirdly. "Huh?"

"Eat it."

He reluctantly picked it up and inspected it in confusion. "What?"

"Comfort food, dude. Eat it."

Stan looked angry, though his eyes were now only red instead of red and watery. "This is supposed to fix my problems?"

Kenny closed his eyes, feeling a yawn coming on. "Nah, but it helps."

Stan took a big bite and chewed harshly on it. Kenny was right...it was sort of a relief. Sometimes he needed to be violent to get rid of stress, and he supposed it was for the best to choose a jelly sandwich as his victim.

--

"Waaahn-draaaaaahs.Wahn-drahs. Wahhhn-drus. Won-drahhs. Wondrous."

As our good friend Eric varied his tone and walked down the hallway from choir, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Stan had come upstairs alone, and Kenny was already walking in the other direction, talking to Wendy. He didn't bother to think about Stan, but he couldn't help wondering if the lovebird lesbians had finally gotten together.

"About time they got off their periods," he muttered as he descended into the cafeteria, alone and content. "Waaahn-draaahs. Whhhaan-draaaahs."

--

For whatever reason, Kyle wasn't on the bus home that day. Stan was pretty sure he hadn't gotten sick, because the redhead had been in Biology (not having to talk to anyone, thankfully; they'd been taking notes today) and also in PE (just plain avoided people altogether.)

Not being particularly over-fond of Cartman, Kenny noticed the empty aisle seat by Stan and took it immediately.

"How goes it?" the skinny blonde asked, leaning in to let Stan know he actually did care how he was.

Stan looked up from a daydream and smiled slowly. "Aw, fine. How 'bout you?"

"I'm okay," Kenny replied, though he was actually way more than okay because Wendy had asked him over to hang out after school. He just didn't want to rub it in Stan's face. Isn't he sweet? "Where's Kyle, dude?"

Stan shrugged, looking out the window. "Must've gotten a ride or something."

"Ah..." Kenny frowned, wanting to say something helpful but thinking of nothing. "Dude, just give him a day or something. It's Kyle we're talking about...he can't stay like this forever."

"Yeah," Stan said, though it was a lie to say he agreed. Kyle had never stayed like this forever in the past, but he'd also never had his best friend turn gay for him.

"Hey, man," Kenny sighed, leaning back and shutting his eyes in preparation for his usual 5-minute bus nap. "It'll be okay."

Stan huffed another 'yeah,' and he knew that if Kyle had been the one to say it, he might actually believe it. Oh, how badly he idolized that Jew.

Once they were off the bus, he said a simple 'bye' to Kenny and they all went their separate ways. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets and sniffing from the sudden blast of cold wind on his face, Stan trudged along silently.

When he got home, he unlocked the door and went inside. Knocking the snow off his boots, he noticed that his parents' usual shoes weren't in the closet.

"Hello?" He called into the foyer. No answer.

Stan's heart grew a little heavier when he walked into the family room and saw Shelly on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and watching TV like a bored zombie. She was idly playing with her bottom lip, flipping it with her index finger and frowning.

"Where are they?" Stan asked about their parents. Shelly didn't acknowledge him.

Stan frowned and inhaled slowly. "Where are mom and dad?" He asked a bit louder.

Shelly turned her head and glared at him. Stan began to chew anxiously on the inside of his cheek when her hair fell away to reveal a long, slowly healing cut along her forehead, bruises on her eye, cheekbone, and around her neck. The rest of her body was covered with clothing.

"Get lost," she commanded, turning back to her TV program.

Instead, he wandered over to the couch and sat on the other end, next to her but still way too far to be touching her.

"Will you go the fuck away?!" She hissed, not moving her eyes from the TV.

"...Why?" He asked. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Maybe he really needed companionship. Or maybe he really was worried about his sister. Probably both.

"Because I fucking don't want you here, that's why."

"Dude," Stan mumbled dismally. "What's your problem?"

"..."

"Dude!"

Shelly turned her head a bit and looked at him sort-of softly. Stan almost thought she was about to break and say something romantic like "thanks for caring, little bro. I love you." Or "I never told you how much you mean to me..."

Not sure why he'd think that, but whatever. He really did look up to his sister. What little brother doesn't?

She instead bent her leg out and kicked him in the shin. Hard.

"Ow!" Stan stood up. "What the fuck, Shelly!?"

Shelly returned her leg to its original position and flipped him off, attention returned to the TV and certainly not about to leave it again.

"I don't want to talk to you, dumbshit. Get lost before I kick your ass."

"Fine!" He barked, leaving the family room. He grabbed his bookbag and stomped up the stairs, throwing it into his room once he was there. He fell face-first onto his unmade bed and groaned loudly.

"GODDAMMIT!" He fondly informed the mattress.

This was sad. This was seriously sad. The two people he'd always admired and needed the most, his best friend and his sister, hated him. And it was horrible because he really didn't feel like he'd done anything wrong! He wasn't the one who'd been beating and abusing Shelly for months! And he hadn't forced himself on Kyle, or anything!

He rolled over and glared at the ceiling, eyes glassy though he refused to let himself cry.

"This is so fucking retarded." He inhaled deeply to steady himself. "I mean, no offense, God...but what the hell's your problem??! Why me??"

Maybe, he thought; Maybe it was that feeling this way for Kyle had put him in God's bad graces.

I don't get it, he thought onward. I didn't ask for these feelings!

God didn't answer him, of course, which left him only one more person to turn to for answers. He got himself up off the bed and went to his computer, un-minimizing a window that had been there for days. He refreshed it.

_I think the accounts might actually still work, at least for a while...but okay, we can meet. Tomorrow good for you? Behind the school, at the second bench. Like maybe ten minutes after 7th hour._

_I'll check tonight, so try to let me know soon._

_TOD_

Stan rubbed slowly at his too-warm eyes, confused. He thought this would make him feel better, but instead of subsiding, his tears were now getting worse and dangerously close to falling.

He frowned tersely at the keyboard and put his hands on it in one heavy motion, feeling each 'click' in his fingers as he wrote back.

--

"Want something to eat?"

Kenny, to our amusement, was still unused to his host actually caring to ask about his well-being, and continued to be surprised to the nth degree each time Wendy asked how he was doing. It was cool, but definitely a little weird. Hard to get used to.

"Uhhh..." He folded his legs and rubbed his hands together, getting comfy in the poufy red couch. It was a little cold in her house, but nothing he couldn't handle. "Sure, that'd be great."

"What do you want?" She called from the kitchen. "We have some leftover teriyaki chicken...umm...I could make some salad, or, uh...I could bake a potato..."

Kenny turned his head to the kitchen and blinked. As appetizing as all that sounded, he wouldn't feel comfortable with anything but his usual modest snack.

"Do you have any jelly?" He wondered at her, and she seemed to get it.

A minute later she came back with two sandwiches; one, grape jelly, and the other, peanut-butter-and-jelly. She handed him the former and he giggled.

"Thanks." He eyed her sandwich as she took a bite, taking note of the shape of her lips and its contrast in color against the squishy white bread. He looked away again. "I love this stuff, seriously..."

He munched all the crust off his before allowing himself to take a bite of the good part. Wendy smiled brightly and watched him until he noticed her. He stopped mid-bite and smiled back in embarrassment, wiping jelly from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What?" He asked, voice taking on a higher pitch than normal. "What's so funny?"

She shrugged and sighed heavily. "Nothing."

He put his half-eaten sandwich back down on the Styrofoam plate sitting on the table and slid it away from himself. He and Wendy watched the television in silence for a few minutes before the dark-haired girl glanced at him.

"Hey," she said. He looked at her.

"Hm?"

"Wanna change the channel?" She asked lightly, tossing her head back on the back of the couch.

"Uh..." he gave a nervous laugh. "Why? Do you?"

"Not really," she sighed. There was another silence and Kenny reached out for his uneaten sandwich, but Wendy touched his wrist, gaining his attention. He turned his head and found she'd leaned in quite close.

"Can I..." She frowned, blue eyes shining with some sort of interest that Kenny found quite curious. His pulse was speeding up as he waited for her to do something, her hand still on his wrist and her face close to his.

He swallowed. "Yeah?"

"Well...can I ask you something?"

He shifted a bit and tilted his head to the side, eyes not moving from Wendy's.

"Sure."

Her lips quirked into a small smile. "Ken...why do you live with Eric?"

He exhaled shortly and frowned in slight confusion.

"Um."

Wendy leaned back a bit and took her hand away from his wrist. "Kenny?"

"I guess, I..." He leaned away as well, frowning and rubbing the back of his neck with his warm hand. "Well, it's sort of a long story."

"I have plenty of time," she said with a small smirk, implying that he wasn't going to get her off his back too easily.

"I don't really want to talk about it," he excused himself, more honestly this time. "I - ..."

She huffed in surprise, and was sensitive enough to change the subject upon the sudden catch in his breath and his teary-eyed frown. She put a hand on his back and patted him, smiling sweetly.

"Then don't," she said. Idly, she noticed it had started drizzling outside. "Wanna change the channel _now?_"

Despite the sadness on his face, Kenny laughed. He shrugged; "Not really."

"Then..." Wendy was not giving up. "Let's talk about how awesome jelly sandwiches are."

He chuckled. "No, thanks."

"Ooookay," she continued, obviously running out of ideas. She reached out and flicked messy bangs out of his face, flicking his forehead at the same time and making him wince playfully.

"Ow."

"You're not being any help!" She complained, hand resting on the back of his neck. He 'khff'ed in amusement, turning to look at her.

"Sorry..." he said, pursing his lips and jokingly batting his eyelashes. She shoved his shoulder.

"No, you're not sorry either. You're just trying to make me feel stupid!"

He looked at the floor and then back at her. "I didn't mean to..."

"Oh, yeah?" She looked into his eyes, too, like a mirror. Their eyes were exactly the same color, at least to the untrained eye. "So what _do_ you wanna do?"

"I dunno. You can choose, but I have veto powers."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Veto powers!"

"So...?"

She tucked her hair behind her ears and thought for a moment, gaze not moving from his eyes. She was rather impressed; Stan could never keep eye contact this long. He was too easily distracted.

"So," she said. "If I suggested that you let me snag your first..."

"Kiss?" Kenny's eyes widened.

She smiled. "Would you veto me?"

He looked like he needed to think for a moment, even though they both knew the answer already.

"Nah," he smiled uncertainly. "I – I wouldn't."

His nervous giggle was cut off by her cheek on his lips. Yes, her cheek.

"Mmph?" He asked, and she leaned a few inches back, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry, I missed," she said.

"...Huh?!?"

She leaned in again. This time, his lips caught her chin, and she muttered something he didn't understand.

"Wen-dy...?"

"Here's an idea," she said, forehead touching his. "I don't want to _steal_ your first..."

"Oh..."

She blinked rapidly, eyelashes hitting his cheek.

"How bout you _give_ me your first, instead?"

He gave another anxious laugh and shrugged.

"Um...okay."

He tilted his head back when she scooted closer, hanging part-way above him. She lowered her face and he lifted his head again, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth.

She giggled, breath warm against his face. "Mm-hm," she urged him on.

He turned his head half an inch, meeting her half-way. Their lips touched awkwardly.

It was AWESOME.

After a few seconds, Wendy pulled away, still a few inches above him. She stared down at his dreamy expression. How cute.

"So," she laughed softly, sliding her hand down the side of his arm until he was startled out of his daze. She then ran her fingers into his hair. "Wanna change the channel now?"

He nodded slowly. She leaned over and grabbed the remote from the other side of the couch. Still looking down into his bright blues, she pointed it backwards over her shoulder, smiled, and pressed 'off.'

--

_When I want you in my arms_

_When I want you and all your charms_

_Whenever I want you, all I have to do_

_Is dream, dream, dream, dream_

_When I feel blue in the night_

_And I want you to _- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, break it up, break it up!! I'm pretty sure I NEVER authorized this. What? Songficitis?! But I _just_ got my shots last month!! Oh, someone's - (sneeze) - ...someone's gonna pay. (sniffle)

--

**life is so sucky sometimes. everyone is mad at me and i dont even know what i did. i know im not the best person to have around but ive never pissed off so many people before without even knowing it. i think my sister hates me even though all i tried to do is help.**

**and my best friend...well i cant tell you why but i think shes avoiding me. man. i just dont know what to do anymore. i mean, i think she is the best thing thats ever happened to me, you know. but right now i just have to worry that she hates me.**

**if loving her means we cant be friends anymore then i don't ever want to love anyone, you know! if we just stayed friends itd be okay, thats probly the most i should hope for anyway.**

**but now i dont know if i can even do that. maybe i really messed up. it just feels like nobodys really happy with me. ever felt that way? i dunno, like life isn't worth living anymore.**

--

"Dork," he muttered worriedly into his fist. He was a little flustered. "Stan, you're such a dork."

He turned his head and looked outside. He could tell by the cold, wet air and the view that it had just stopped drizzling.

Wasn't Stan just being sensitive? Kyle knew that he'd been a little callous today, but was Stan that bad that he gotten depressed just from one day of it?

Then again, thought Kyle, he really had no right to judge Stan. Kyle had been gifted (cursed?) with good independence and a strong sense of self that the other boy had probably never known. Maybe Kyle'd been conditioned to handle stress, or maybe it'd been in his genes since he was a kid.

It was probably what made him so good an anchor for Stan. He kind of liked being that important to the other boy. Eh, scratch that – he _really_ liked it. He loved that Stan was so dependent. It was something Kyle couldn't really be, really. Both of them had their places.

Though he didn't particularly enjoy how easily Stan got depressed. Then again, he thought, it would probably be just as easy to cheer him back up.

"Mom," he called, walking down the stairs. "I'm going out..."

"What? No! It's too late!" Sheila looked up from her book and frowned, removing her reading glasses. "Where would you be going, anyway?"

Kyle smiled somewhat, knowing he could get her to cave. Growing up, he'd displayed no reason for his parents to worry about his sense of responsibility, so he tended to persuade them after a few moments of initial 'worry.'

"I need to ask Stan about something," he shrugged. "Homework stuff."

She frowned again, thinking. "You'd be back soon?"

"Where ya going? Where ya going?" Ike bounded into the room, jumping about wildly. "Can I go?"

Kyle glanced at him. "No." He looked at his mom. "Yeah."

She looked down at her book and sighed. "Keep your phone on."

"Aw man, lame!" Ike protested, running out of the room.

The redhead smiled widely. "Love you," he told her as he pulled on his jacket. She nodded; went 'yeah, yeah,' but Kyle could see she was smiling anyway.

--

Kyle sighed tiredly. Why wasn't anyone answering? He knocked again, wondering why he'd only just noticed that the Marsh residence had no doorbell.

He waited a good ten seconds and was about to knock again when the door flew open to reveal a severely angry-looking girl. Kyle blinked in surprise.

"Kenny, right?" She spat in greeting. "Stan's in his room."

Kyle blinked yet again, not bothering to correct her. "Oh, um...Shelly...you look well." This was certainly awkward. Now that his eyes were adjusting to the sudden light of the open doorway, he could see clear evidence of what Stan had been describing in the email. Her boyfriend had been hitting her? It surprised Kyle. Somehow, she didn't seem like the kind of girl who'd take abuse.

She looked at him carefully. "Yeah."

Smiling, he took the chance to pass through the door and go to the stairs. Her eyes lingered on his back for a few moments before she shrugged and went back to her TV program. He hadn't grown very tall since she'd last seen him, but he had gotten pretty handsome.

"Hmph," she said.

Despite his claim to calmness, Kyle was very aware that his heart was beating funny as he slowly climbed the stairs and turned the corner to the closed door of the room he knew so well. He was polite enough to knock a few times, but he didn't wait long before opening the door. After all, Stan was the kind of guy who'd do something to himself on a whim.

What he found in the unlit room was Stan lying on the floor. Dead.

...to the world. You know, like, sleeping.

"Pffeh," Kyle smiled, standing in the doorway and wondering how one could end up sleeping on the floor, especially in one's own bedroom. Stan was lying on his back, limbs all spread out and looking generally sweet, like a gingerbread man knocked over. His mouth was hanging open, too.

"You know you have a knack for looking retarded," the redhead muttered affectionately, walking over and nudging Stan's side with the toe of his shoe. When the taller boy gave no sign of waking up, Kyle nudged him harder. Still nothing.

Kyle sighed and crouched down on the ground, setting his hands flat on the ground and leaning in. He hovered over Stan, perpendicular to his face, and breathed softly on the sleeping boy's mouth.

Smiling to himself, Kyle giggled softly and pulled back instead of letting their lips touch. He decided instead to pinch Stan's nose tightly, doing so until the other boy snorted and started to choke awake.

"Aggeehhmmmiddeeh?!" Stan struggled, shoving Kyle away with another strangled yelp. The redhead laughed noisily and let him go, stumbling back a bit as Stan thrashed some more. "Agh! Who – wh – Kyle?!"

"Morning, sunshine," Kyle grinned, still laughing.

"Dude!" Stan, heaving in shock, stared at him. "What the – what were you – what are you doing here?!"

"I thought we should hang out," Kyle shrugged.

Stan looked up at his nightstand and paused on that image. "At 10:30?"

Kyle also looked at the nightstand clock and made a noise in his throat. "No, but my 10:32 is available."

"Perfectionist," Stan grumbled, waving his hand and standing up. He was still terribly startled by Kyle's unexplained appearance. What the heck was going on? Did Kyle know about his feelings, or didn't he? And if so, was he mad or wasn't he?

"Hey," Kyle stood as well. He cleared his throat, and his expression communicated that he was here on some major serious business. "Let's go out to the hill."

Stan looked at him. "Okay, dude...now I'm starting to get worried. What the hell's going on? Seriously."

"Dude, naw; it's nothing." Kyle shrugged again; "I just had a feeling that tonight's a good night for it. I mean, call me gay - " Stan briefly glanced at the ceiling, " – but I think, I dunno, like there's something out that we should catch, and it may be gone after tonight."

"Oh – well, uh..." Stan ran his fingers through his hair, glancing uncertainly at the other boy. He laughed. "That's...uh. That's pretty deep, dude."

"Aw, whatever!" Kyle gave a dramatic laugh. "Come on!!"

We're growing up so fast, I don't wanna miss another moment we could have together.

Stan huffed. "Fine, if you need me _that_ much." He paused. "My parents are out, anyway. I dunno where, though."

"That's cool." Kyle started to leave, but he stopped a moment and looked back. He cracked a smile. "Hey, dude. Might wanna grab your jacket."

Stan scowled at him and swung his arm in a wide arc, snatching his coat from the back of his desk chair as he did.

--

It's been a while, he thought.

There was a certain degree of caution required to traverse this side of the neighborhood; a caution from which Kenny had frankly gotten out of practice. It was almost a foreign feeling to him – the dusty atmosphere; the dank smell of rotting lumber; the hard train-tracks running across the nearby field. He couldn't even feel right associating with it anymore, let alone calling it home.

Before, he'd been certain that he'd never want to come back here again. The offer from Liane for him to unofficially join their family had been a literal godsend, even if it was with Eric, who he'd rather disliked as a child but had grown to understand as they'd matured a bit. Beyond the want for video games and upon the realization of a passion that fueled his already-apparent creative genius, Eric Cartman had become a beautiful bastard that Kenny believed anyone would be gifted to hate.

Because Eric was seriously one complex kid, and Kenny's logic was that you can't hate or love someone without first understanding him. He understood and loved Eric, though; he'd give himself that.

Kenny really loved so many people. He loved Liane, of course. He loved Stan and Kyle, too, though they were a bit difficult to understand at times. He was positive he'd love Wendy once he got to know her a little better. For now, she was his goal.

He was sure he'd love her because she was the only one to inspire him enough to move back along to this part of town and take care of the past. That meant a lot of great things in Kenny's mind.

The past was inescapable. There was no such thing as being reborn, which was surely an ironic thing for Kenny McCormick to believe, but he did, and, though he was a laid-back person, he was one stubborn in his ideals.

Because he felt that Wendy was someone who could understand him, he saw potential for love. Love had nothing to do with specific people or soulmates, as far as Kenny could see. It was more a consequence of circumstance; something that happens in an ideal setting, like an affection borne on an afternoon of light chatting in the park, or the deep connection created over years between two best friends – to be specific.

Obviously, Stan and Kyle wouldn't be so into each other if they hadn't grown up so close.

Obviously, he, himself, wouldn't have found Wendy to be more attractive than the other pretty girls if she hadn't been constantly landing herself in his path at the most inopportune moments and inadvertently making herself stand out to him.

Maybe everything was an accident, but as far as he could see, these were good accidents. They were beautiful accidents. Only cause-and-effect could be this imaginative.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the run-down building he used to know so well.

"Home," he said, shivering slightly.

He stepped over a broken piece of something and went up to the door, stepping through. As he crept through the kitchen, he noticed that there didn't seem to be anyone around – aside the red-haired woman asleep on the couch in the next room.

He stopped and looked down at her, taking in all the details. Dark, thin eyebrows; a short, narrow nose. Painted lips, with harsh lines on either side of them. A frail structure of a woman, bent in on herself unsurely; like one considering death while awake but meekly persuaded to remain with the promise of beautiful dreams not reachable in the void of the afterlife. She looked alright.

"I'm home," he mouthed, but no noise escaped his mouth. He gave up on that quickly, studying the woman more closely.

This was someone he used to believe he hated. How awful had that been, though? How awfully innocent had he been?

It was his own belief, after all, that one couldn't hate nor love without fully understanding a person. Other families, he knew, had it much easier than he did in deciding what to think. With a mother like Kyle's, the only thing there was to understand was that Sheila loved her sons, and with that easy understanding of her character came her sons' unspoken, unbroken love for her.

Ken's mom, though...

The blonde boy frowned, folding his arms to keep the cold air away. He'd gotten used to heated homes.

Ken's mom had not been _nearly_ so easy to understand. It was because of a difficult situation, but that was just the cards they'd been dealt. He wasn't blaming her.

He picked up the sleeping woman's cold hand and held it between his warm ones. He looked at her face and sighed.

"I just wanted to come and tell you – I think I'm starting to understand."

She sniffed in her sleep.

"Well, I..." he continued, "...I don't get it all, exactly, but I'm doing the best I can. I – I have to go, but I thought I'd come by. You know, and..." He let her hand go again and looked to the floor uneasily; "...let you know I'm doing okay."

Her hand twitched and she turned her head.

"I just thought you'd want to know," he finished quietly.

He took a moment to breathe and take in the atmosphere, but he didn't allow himself to stay on the sentiment for long. With a final nod, he turned and left the dismal establishment.

--

"It feels like it's been forever."

"Yeah?"

Kyle turned his head a bit to look at the boy lying in the wet grass next to him. They were on the top of the hill a little bit before the park, staring at the black sky.

"Yeah," the redhead nodded, turning his head to gaze back upward. Stan laughed quietly.

"I guess it has been forever, dude. But you know, the weather isn't so bad – once you get over the fact that we're pretty much sleeping in snow right now."

"Gotta live it up," Kyle grinned, and then inhaled quickly; "Hey! Got one!"

"What?" Stan returned. "No way dude, where?"

Kyle pointed at the sky and squinted one eye. "Right there, see it?"

Stan looked and quickly realized that checking the direction of Kyle's indication would do no help in locating the star that the redhead had supposedly spotted.

"Hm," Stan grumbled. "Liar."

"Ugh, you just don't trust me!" Kyle sighed. Cue subtle topic change procedure A: hint at a transition. "Hey, Stan." Cue subtle topic change procedure B: address your partner.

"Hmm?"

Kyle kicked his feet gently at the ground and folded his arms behind his head. "Ever think about where you're gonna be in a few years?" Cue subtle topic change procedure C: screw 'subtle.'

Stan was silent for a short while. "Well."

Kyle turned his head again. "Hm? What?"

"Eh, I dunno. I've never really thought about it."

Kyle pursed his lips. "Seriously?"

Stan laughed quietly. "Surprise to you, probably. Your whole future is planned out perfectly, there's no reason for you want to stay in the past, right?"

"I don't really understand."

"I dunno, I'm just not as sure about what I wanna be as you are, so I'm not thinking about the future as much as you prolly do."

Repeat procedure C.

Kyle smirked and grunted. "Oh, alright, whatever – don't play guilt trip. It won't work on me!"

"Guilt trip...?" Stan asked innocently, holding back a big grin.

"Don't try to make me feel guilty, dude," Kyle declared, squinting when he thought he'd spotted a real first star in the sky, "for thinking about the future! It's a good thing to think about, man! You should try it."

"Rather not," Stan grumbled.

"Well, you're going to have to," was Kyle's retaliation. "In fact, I may have to force you, because your input is necessary in my own plans."

Stan blinked rapidly, suddenly confused. "Wah?"

The two boys were lying close enough, so Kyle bumped his little finger against Stan's for his attention. The dark-haired boy glanced at him.

"Y'know," Kyle started; "we are best friends, right?"

Stan's face twisted somewhat, but he swallowed over a dry spot in his throat and grunted 'yeah.'

"Super-best-friends," Kyle inquired on, and Stan nodded, slightly annoyed. The redhead grinned.

"The best of the super best...?"

Stan gasped in exasperation. "The point, dude; the point??"

Kyle laughed and sat up, and Stan followed suit. "Even when everything changes, this'll all still have happened. All the super-best-friends shit we've done since we were kids, it'll always be there. You know? It's kind of awesome how that works."

Stan nodded, though not exactly following.

"And, well, no matter what happens, we'll always have been best friends."

Stan frowned. "Yeah..."

"And," Kyle continued. "We'll always _be_ best friends, more than anything."

"Uh." Stan laughed nervously. "Dude, you're so funny."

Kyle put his hand on Stan's shoulder and looked at him. "I know it's hard to take anything that I say seriously, but you gotta take this one to heart, buddy. Believe me."

"What's up with you today?" The dark-haired boy wondered quietly. Kyle smiled, shrugged, and removed his hand from Stan's shoulder.

"Just thought we should make something meaningful out of the time we still have together - "

Stan's eyes widened. "Oh my god. You're – you're moving, aren't you?!"

Kyle gave him a weird look. " - ...even if that ends up being fifty more years."

Stan shrugged in embarrassment.

"Meaningful, huh."

"Yeah, meaningful."

"Okay, I can do meaningful," Stan assured him unimpressively, rubbing his hands together. Kyle laughed silently, still giving him a strange stare.

"Stan, _you're_ the funniest guy I know," he admitted. "Now I'm tryin' to picture us someday being strangers with each other. I just can't see it, dude."

Stan stopped rubbing his hands together, looking shocked.

"Strangers? But you said we'll always be best friends?"

Kyle yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

"Even if we're strangers, we'll still be best friends. Even if we're enemies, or even lovers, dude, we're best friends first."

There was that one word that distracted Stan entirely from the rest of the sentence.

"Lovers..." he repeated carefully, staring at Kyle. "Are – " He gave a nervous laugh, as if to imply the possibility of a joke, and wetted his lips. "What...what are you talking about, dude? Is this your way of saying you're - " he gave that same anxious laugh, " – gay, or something?"

Kyle blinked slowly and looked at him, then shrugged.

"I didn't mean anything other than what I said," he replied simply. "We'll always be best friends, is what I meant."

Stan scratched at the back of his head. "Dude – you – what does that mean? _Are_ you gay?"

Kyle was starting to get annoyed. "I said that's not the point. I was talking about us as best friends no matter what."

Stan looked at the ground in shame. "Oh, well sorry...it's just...the way you said it, I thought...you know."

Kyle nodded thoughtfully, then said:

"That's not what I was saying, but even then, would - !" He stopped, made a face, then sneezed into the cold hill wind.

Stan snorted. "Blessia."

Kyle sneezed again and sniffed hard, looking ticked. "Sorry..."

"Whatever, dude..."

They sat there in silence, and both immediately noticed that the sky was now littered with the stars they'd been so diligently seeking only a few minutes earlier.

"Aw, man!" Stan groused at the stars. "This shit creeps up on you fast!"

"I know," the other boy agreed. "Everything does."

Silent again, Stan dared to glance at Kyle again. The redhead looked to be in deep thought, and Stan didn't want to disturb him.

He did anyway.

"Hey..."

Kyle 'mm'ed. Stan fidgeted a bit, feeling the snow seeping into his underwear.

"I'm just wondering, why'd you say that we'll be best friends even if we're lovers?"

Kyle blinked tiredly. "Because we would be."

"No, no, I mean why did you say lovers? You think we'll – uh, be like that one day?"

"Maybe someday; maybe never; maybe sooner than we think," Kyle laughed nonchalantly, and Stan 'whoa'ed. Cryptic, dude.

"Al...right...?"

Kyle turned to him. "Hey, dude."

"Huh?"

"Let's not think about it too hard. 'Come what may'...y'know?" He shrugged, folding his legs Indian-style and leaning forward, admiring the spangled sky.

"Cool," Stan agreed with a slight smile.

They continued to watch the sky, but even they, being as inexplicably fascinated with the activity as they were, began to recognize how boring it was becoming. Stan attempted to strike up conversation once more.

"Kyle!"

Kyle jumped a bit, alarmed by the unexpected volume of the other boy's tone. "Aghh?"

Stan smirked. "We'll always be super-best-friends, no matter what, right?"

Kyle nodded; "Yeh-huh."

"Promise, eh?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Ugh, Stan, dude, don't make me do this. You know the answer already, we've been talking about it for like ten minutes."

Stan 'pff'ed, holding his hand out. "Shake on it."

Kyle looked at the outstretched hand in complete confusion for a good few seconds before he huffed, smiled, and gripped it firmly in his own. They shook hands primly and shortly, making a silent pact that would really have been better left to their elementary-school selves.

But it was a good pact.

And for whatever awkward reason, after finishing the handshake, their hands just hadn't separated. Needless to say, neither boy had any complaints.

-endch7-

FSdglkjsdf. Hope this's okay for you!! D: Kenny's a pretty cute kid, isn't he?

12,405 words XD

I was literally three-fifths asleep as I finished writing this. My brain started wandering off, and I ended up typing thoughtlessly, with stuff like this:

Kyle looked at the outstretched hand in complete confusion for a good few seconds before slipping it on ... (pauses and realizes mind's been wandering to image of rich noblewoman slipping on a glove) (wonders why) (backspace backspace)

NOT a Cartman/Bebe btw! LOL, sorry.

I'm sorry this chapter was more dumb drama :(

So yeah, reviews would be nice. :x I'm actually quite a slow writer, spending roughly 30 (or more) hours literally in front of the computer for each chapter, so...yeah. Incidentally, I also spend an _additional _30 or so in front of the computer, having accidentally fallen asleep from trying too hard. LOL. Come on! I need you guys:D Without your responses, I can't write more!!


	8. The Absurd Conclusion

Omg it's been forever since I've written, eh!

I'm hoping I can make up for it with al the Style in this chap:o There is a lot of it!

Also, uh. Completely random TokenClyde. And sorta ShellyCartman if you squint. YEY.

Also!

This is the last chapter! OO Hohoho, I hope you all enjoyed this story. I certainly enjoyed writing about this adorable faggots. And by god, DO REVIEW!!!!! O:

Disclaimed.

Thwishy: UP ALL NIGHT! Wow, and all of your comments...truly, I am honored by your words. You have made me an extremely happy little girl. Thank you so kindly. I ohpe you didn't feel too awful after passing out in your bathtub XD

Naruto101Lov: LOL! Those damn llamas. Haha, so glad you like it. Thanks for coming back for the conclusion. :o

Tregetry.: Whoa...thank you so much. I really do love writing stories that work on more than one or two characters...they just feel a lot more real. EQUAL OPPORTUNITY! So yeah. Thanks again.

Fay D Flourite: LOL. You rock! And yeah, er, the snogtastic snogerooing you yearn for...you may or may not find what you're looking for in this chapter o:

Indiana Beach Bum: OMG so this chap took longer than I told you it would. I'm sorry. Buh. Haha, I hope the Style in this final chapter is sufficient.  I also adore your reviews and the random things you always throw at me XD GOD LOL I AM GOING TO MISS YOU D:

Gabbygrl3: You're so sweet, thanks. Hhehe, yeah. Not getting reviews from readers is LAME. That's part of why you're cool:D

Gman2006: Not exactly a 'quick' update, but at least I got it out for ya. Thanks so much for reading.

Jacob: XD did you read past chapter 1? IRREVERENT WRITING STYLE! To me, that's a huge compliment! Haha!

LilChicky004: HEY!!! OH MAN! Yeah I love how you've been such a d-dedicated revieer ;; It makes me...p-proud. Why am I stuttering DX BECAUSE I AM SO SAD THAT OUR TIME TOGETHER HAS RUN OUT SINCE IT'S ENDING HERE Aww. Thanks for the support though! I DID IT:D

Blockofthewritingkind: Hahaha –glomps back- I guess it was ASAP, but not exactly fast D: ANYWAY THANK YOU FOR READING. Hope you like.

Clara Masse: It's good to see Kenny differently sometimes, yes? And rofl Cartman would appreciate that...I think XD

Ren85: don't you love how nice Kyle is to Stanley -;; HAHA. O, I'm glad you thought it was cute! I hope this chapter doesn't ruin everything, and thank you for all the dedicated reviewing ;; I'll never f-forget you

Eudoxus: Oh! Oh! Are you serious?! You look forward to reading this?!!!! Well, bugger. And yeah, I'm such a tard for suspense and almost-things. Good news is that this time the story's ending and there's no more of that suspense crap XD...sorta.

PhoenixII: LOVE YA TOO!! And nah, Kyle won't be mad about being called a girl. He probably thinks it's funny XD THANK YOU FOR RETURNING CHAPTER AFTER CHAPTER! I hope you like this last installment!

YOU GUYS ROCK!!!!! (blows kisses)

* * *

**METhOD 08:** The Absurd Conclusion

"In the end, everything is a gag." –Charlie Chaplin

* * *

He didn't think he had ever slept this deeply. As he came closer to being awake, he became aware of these facts: his bed was more comfortable, more warm, more sweet-smelling, more...real...

Sucking in a sharp breath through his nose, Stan jerked immediately awake and tried to sit up, only to be held back by the heavy weight of an arm wrapped tightly around his neck. He groaned sleepily and lifted his head a bit to see Kyle was lying on the ground beside him, giving Stan a very painful noogie sot of thing in his sleep.

The black-haired boy winced, wondering what time it was. It was obviously still around mid-night, as the sky was entirely black. There was moonlight coming from somewhere, but he couldn't really be assed to find its actual source.

He shivered; the body next to him was warm, sure, but it was still kind of cold out. Carefully, he unhooked the redhead's elbow from around his neck, rubbing at the sore area as he sat up and pulled his jacket in tighter on himself.

Stan yawned. Bending his knees up and hooking his hands together between them, he looked down to his side at Kyle, smiling unconsciously at the boy. Kyle's arms were now bent at an odd angle; one hand curled up by his ear and the other arm, off from around Stan's neck, lying bent out. Stan decided he looked like someone who had trouble deciding whether to flex his muscles or talk on the phone.

The black-haired boy giggled almost soundlessly, shifting a bit on the wet ground. It was probably a good idea to get home. At least he knew Kyle wasn't mad. His super-best-friend-forever wasn't mad at him.

He moved to wake the other boy up, noticing that Kyle had a weird way of snoring. It wasn't really snoring at all...he just made a girly little 'mm' sound every time he exhaled. Stan paused. He must really be smitten to be noticing garbage like _that._

"Aww - " Stan frowned, wishing more now that he had a watch. He hadn't brought his cel phone, either. Standing, he looked down and decided not to wake Kyle. Instead, he bent down over the shorter boy and gracelessly jerked one arm under his knees, the other arm sliding behind the torso. Holding his breath to focus his strength, he hoisted Kyle up.

"Uh – Stan?"

Surprised, Stan looked down at the redhead, only for his eyes to meet (currently) green ones. He opened his mouth to speak. Instead, he grunted and dropped Kyle, the shorter boy falling right smack on his ass.

"OW! Dude!?" Kyle muttered angrily, standing shakily and glaring at Stan, who was still looking shocked. Kyle sobered a bit when he noticed how red the other boy was turning.

"Uh?"

"Shit, Kyle – I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake, I uhh..."

Kyle shrugged, yawning. "I wasn't, dude. You grabbing my ass kinda did it."

"I – What?!" Stan gawked, thoroughly awake at this point. "I didn't!!"

Kyle cleared his throat into his fist (hiding a smile) and lifted an eyebrow at the dark-haired boy. "Okay, dude...keep telling yourself that." He let his smile widen and show at this point. "But it's too obvious you can't resist my manly charms."

Kicking Stan's ankle playfully as he walked past and started down the hill, Kyle waved a triumphant fist about. Stan, flabbergasted, followed at his heels.

After they were at the base of the hill and on the sidewalk, Stan sped up to walk at Kyle's side. Not looking at the other boy, Stan sniffed quietly to gain his attention.

"Kyle..."

"Mmyah?"

Stan half-snorted, glancing at the other boy. "Is your...are you alright? Sorry about that, um. You know."

Kyle's mouth curved into a slight smile. "Uhhhhhh, _no_. My ass is killing me – thanks to you."

Stan tripped but didn't fall. Someone was out to get him for sure, making Kyle say all this stuff.

Kyle stopped walking abruptly, turning to look at Stan. His eyes were open a bit wider than usual, and his lips parted in pre-comment. Stan really was an idiot, if he couldn't tell Kyle felt the same after all that.

Still, he was Kyle's idiot. His cute, clumsy idiot.

"Um?" Stan wondered why Kyle had stopped. The redhead tapped his foot and folded his arms over his chest, giving Stan a suspicious look.

"Kyle?" The taller inquired again. Kyle clicked his tongue and unfolded his arms.

"You're so..."

"Shut up!" Stan demanded even before Kyle could finish.

"Do you have a watch or something?" Kyle laughed.

"No, dude." Stan was obviously still flustered. "I wish I knew what time it is, though..."

"Mm-hm," Kyle agreed. He lifted his eyebrows and continued to stare at Stan, whose own gaze wandered all over the sidewalk, lawns, and nearby houses; anywhere except to the boy he was so nervous about in the first place.

"I'm cold," Stan attempted to break the silence. It was making him uncomfortable, especially the way Kyle was staring so intently at him. He was beginning to worry that Kyle really did know about his...issue.

"Sorry," was Kyle's short reply. "Uhh, can't really help you there. I doubt my coat would fit over yours, anyway."

"Are you calling me fat?!" Stan chuckled nervously as they started walking again.

"Actually," Kyle said, "you have been eating a lot recently..."

"You're just trying to psych me out, you asshole."

"Maybe." Kyle giggled, kicking at a small rock on the pavement. Stan stepped a few paces ahead to kick the rock, as well, and then Kyle did again. They took turns kicking the rock along for a while, until they got to the corner, where they'd have to go separate ways to get home.

"So, see you – " Stan paused and yawned. Smacking his lips; "...Seeya tomorrow?"

"Yep," Kyle nodded.

Stan didn't move to leave, though. "Um, this was – this was cool..."

Kyle lifted his eyebrows expectantly.

Stan looked down. "I mean, maybe we should do this more often...it's just, you know. We haven't really hung out much so, like...you know, just as super-best...uh, friends." He gave a nervous laugh.

The redhead wore a small smile, looking Stan's body up and down. He 'hmm'ed thoughtfully.

"You know, you are starting to look a little like Cartman..." Though Cartman wasn't terribly obese, you would remember (if you please) that he was still a bit overweight.

Stan looked up in surprise. "HUH?"

Kyle's eyes met his. "Maybe you should go on a diet – or share you lunch more often..."

"Are you SERIOUSLY telling me I'm fat?"

Kyle blinked.

"Oh – NO way, dude!" Stan grabbed the collar of Kyle's jacket and tried to pull a classic hoist-the-small-kid-off-the-ground, but he overestimated the strength left in him by sleepiness and only managed to pull the redhead up a bit.

"Stan," Kyle grumbled, unable to breathe quite properly like this.

"Take is baaaack," Stan demanded, sounding more whiny than intimidating. "I am...NOT fat."

Kyle smirked and poked Stan's gut. The dark-haired boy's eyes widened and he throttled his friend.

"Dude!" He nearly shrieked.

Kyle blinked mildly. "Someone's excited," he muttered between his teeth, looking uninterested.

"Dude!" Again.

"Dude yourself!" Kyle hissed, though not entirely angry. Collar still pulled up uncomfortably, he leaned forward. "Why're you being such a girl!"

"Well – uh – why are you calling me fat?!"

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Dude, fine, I take it back. Now – will you keep it down? You probably woke up the entire neighborhood with all that DUDEing."

Holding his breath, Stan nodded and loosened his grip on Kyle's collar, though not relinquishing it completely. Kyle frowned in confusion at this.

"Sorry?" The redhead tried, wondering if Stan just wanted further confirmation of this apology. How stupid, Kyle thought.

Stan shrugged, looking down in thought, his fingers flexing a bit in the wrinkled collar of Kyle's coat.

"Um," was all he managed to say. When he looked up again, he realized he was staring straight into Kyle's brown-grey-greens. He didn't look away, thought he wanted to.

"Umm," Kyle said back, grinning whimsically.

Stan swallowed. "You _were_ just joking...right?"

Kyle' grin fell a bit. "Let it go, man. I was just teasing."

"You're such a...pnnh."

"A what?" Kyle whispered severely. Stan chewed his lip.

"You're a dick-hole, Kyle."

"And you're a girl, dude." Kyle leaned up and studied his friend's eyes, collar still firmly in Stan's grip. "_Worrying _about your _weight_."

Stan leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes against the snow that had started to fall and glaring at the shorter boy. "Shut. Up."

Laughter colored Kyle's eyes, though his face remained unmoving. "Make me, Stanley."

Stan, seeming to realize for the first time how close they now were, leaned back by a lot and frowned. Kyle cocked his head unresponsively and closed his eyes in impatience.

"Ky...if I..."

"If you what?" Kyle opened his eyes. Stan's stare flickered from the boy's eyes down to his jaw, then to his ear, then his shoulder. Kyle grew more annoyed. He yawned with a closed mouth.

"Dude? If you what?"

Stan touched Kyle's shoulder. The latter pursed his lips. "Dude, seriously, what?"

The dark-haired boy then pulled Kyle into a loose, awkward hug.

"Umm – don't ask..."

Kyle smiled, putting his chin up on Stan's shoulder. He hugged back to encourage the taller boy. "Sure, dude. Whatever."

"You – you don't think this is a little...gay?" Stan muttered, hugging tighter. Kyle huffed.

"Duh it is," the redhead said, closing his eyes. "But you do what you gotta do, man." He shrugged and Stan hmphed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said cautiously, turning his head a bit into Kyle's neck. Damn, this boy smelled nice.

"Hmmm," Kyle hummed, eyes flickering open when he felt that straight, narrow nose bury itself into his neck and inhale deeply. Suddenly, Kyle's face felt a lot warmer, too. "Stan, maybe you should..."

"Mmmm?"

Kyle sighed, torn. The mild vibration of Stan's voice on the crook of his neck...well, it was persuasive.

Stan pursed his mouth onto Kyle's warm skin. The redhead curled his fingers and pulled back a bit.

"Dude."

Stan held him tighter, pursing his lips again, and again – until he was most definitely peppering kisses along Kyle's fair skin.

"Stan..."

Stan grunted, head dizzy with Kyle's subtle scent and taste. His lips kissed clumsily up to the sharp end of the redhead's jaw, and he paused there, seeming to realize what he was actually doing.

He pulled back hastily and let Kyle go, but the redhead had him tight around the waist.

"Kyle – shit – I'm sorry, I'll go - "

"Stan," Kyle hissed. "Wait, hold on." He looked up. Stan looked back at him, hands limp at his sides. He could hear his pulse in his head.

"Stan..." Kyle grumbled, not allowing the dark-haired boy to look away. "You don't have to be so nervous, dude. You know nothing you say's gonna bug me..." He shook Stan a bit until the boy reluctantly embraced him again.

"...thanks." Uhhh, had Kyle not noticed the kisses or something??

"Yeah, yeah," Kyle sighed.

There was a long stretch of silence, though more comfortable this time. Against his better judgment, Stan's mouth found Kyle's neck again, though just barely touching it, and not with kisses.

"Hey..." Kyle whispered. He curled his arms up under Stan's arms and over his back, hands resting on the taller boy's shoulders. He craned his neck a bit so Stan could access the skin easier. If Stan didn't understand _now..._

Kyle started turning his head, making throaty noises to prompt Stan to pay attention. He did so immediately, taking his nose and lips from the redhead's neck yet again.

"Um," he said.

Kyle leaned backward and gave him an uneasy smile, pulling his arms down from Stan's back. "Dude."

"Yeah?"

Kyle frowned. "What about you?" He paused, chewing his lip – an action which Stan immediately focused in on and couldn't seem to look away from. Kyle stopped doing it once he realized this. "Don't you think maybe this is kind of gay?"

Obviously, it was. And Kyle didn't really care. He was just starting to get a little frustrated with Stan's complete inability to draw conclusions. He couldn't possibly still be in denial about feeling that way for Kyle – not after all those e-mails!

Stan's face darkened somewhat. "...Well...I guess it is...pretty...gay..." He cleared his throat, quickly adding: "But maybe not."

'But maybe not...?'

Kyle physically snorted, then coughed a few times. He pounded lightly on his own chest before lifting his gaze to the confused sloe-eyed boy before him.

"Stan," he muttered, silently noting that Stan's hand had somehow come to rest on the height of his hips. "What exactly would you qualify as definitely gay?"

The dark-haired boy ducked his head a bit, unconsciously holding Kyle's sides tighter.

"Uhhh...I dunno."

Kyle quirked his mouth in amusement. He lifted a hand up to the other's hair and carefully slid his fingers through it, catching in a few post-nap tangles. Stan's dark eyes narrowed.

"Is that kinda gay?" Kyle wondered, still fiddling with Stan's locks. By Jove, he was going to make this boy understand if it was the last thing he did.

"Mmfhhg." Stan sighed, obviously content. "I dun...no. Not really."

Moving his hand away from Stan's hair, Kyle wiggled slightly and gently pinched his friend's earlobe between his fingers. Stan sighed again.

"Hm?" Kyle inquired.

Stan decided, "Nah, not gay."

The redhead smiled to himself. He was starting to see what Stan might be doing with all this. His super-friend may have been oblivious to other people's intention, but he knew exactly how and when to dick into what he wanted.

"And - ?" Kyle biting his lip in 'concentration,' slid that hand and his other over the sides of Stan's neck and let them rest at the short hair at the nape. "And?"

"And, uh..." Stan mumbled, obviously not thinking too hard about it and enjoying the contact greatly. "Uh, not – not too really gay."

"Not too really," Kyle repeated, curling his fingers in Stan's hair just a bit.

"Not...too really," Stan affirmed.

Kyle grinned, tugging Stan's face close.

"Do you have something against homosexuals???" He demanded, playfully. Stan crossed his eyes briefly before shooting his very-close-up friend a demure smile.

"Nah."

Kyle leaned up further. The ends of their noses touched, and Stan exhaled audibly.

"Not gay either," he said, and Kyle heard a smile in there. They were both so obviously playing along at this point.

"Not too really," the Jew reminded.

"What time is it?" Stan whispered dramatically.

"Not-too-really-gay time," was the equally-whispered answer. And then one of them moved. And their lips touched.

Kyle's hands immediately tightened their hold on the other boy's neck, but he didn't deepen the 'kiss.' He felt Stan's lips move languidly, open-close, open-close...just a little, like a series of failed whispers. It was dreadfully endearing. Kyle pursed his mouth and made it more of a genuine kiss, pecking the confusedly-moving lips of his partner, and, turning his head, pecked his mouth again. Stan clutched the smaller boy and bit lightly on Kyle's lip, but he paused when he felt a careful tongue against his teeth.

"WhoaImean - " Stan pulled back, eyes wide, and dropped his hands from Kyle's sides. "That wasn't – um – Kyle...?"

Kyle, eyes half-lidded, looked up and noticed his dumb love seemed sort of terrified.

Stan shifted. "Did we just...? Did I...?"

Kyle nodded, frowning.

"Kyle – that was – so – gay...!!"

The redhead held in a sigh, shrugging one shoulder. "I thought you didn't have a problem..."

"I – I don't!" Stan insisted, looking immensely perplexed. "Umm – dude??"

Kyle grunted and yanked Stan down by his jacked, kissing him hard. To this, Stan stood frozen for a moment, and then he shook his head wildly and pushed Kyle back.

"Dude you're not gonna appreciate that later," Stan reasoned unreasonably. He stopped a second, looking like he'd confused even himself. Then he continued, red-faced: "I – I dunno what's going on but I seriously don't want you, uh...you know? Being mad at me later...I dunno about now but I swear later you won't be cool with this. So...just..."

"It wasn't gay?" Kyle folded his arms thoughtfully, not pointing out that Stan had just made close to absolutely no sense.

Stan's mouth twisted a little. "No."

"Not too really?"

"No, dude – it wasn't gay at all."

Kyle scratched his ear. "Oh, then."

"Ky – I really need to go home. I think if I sleep it off..."

Green-gray-brown eyes widened. "What?"

"Huh?"

"Sleep _what_ off?"

Stan grimaced. "That whatever-it-was. Don't hate me, dude. I didn't mean it."

"But I kissed _you_," Kyle reminded him, wondering at the other boy's twisted perception.

"Nobody kissed nobody!" was Stan's reply. Kyle blinked, startled by his atrocious grammar. Perhaps it would be best for everyone to get some sleep.

"Maybe you'd better get to bed, dude."

Stan looked slightly more heartbroken. "I know. This night – uh..."

"Didn't happen?" Kyle supplied helpfully. Stan nodded, embarrassed.

"Never happened, dude." And the dark-haired boy started off for home. But not before he head a quiet

"Not too really...?"

from behind him, but he couldn't make himself answer the tragic send-off joke. He was terribly confused (in case you didn't notice.) And he'd have to think of some way to apologize, or make sure Kyle didn't think he was a fag for the rest of his life.

Even though he totally was. Because that 'not-kiss thing' back there, whatever it was, was really, really...

Licking his lips, Stan snuck quietly back into the house and lied in bed for the small remainder of the evening, worrying and dreaming both about the same person.

--

The next day, Kenny and Eric were talking all the way over to the bus stop, where they found an unusual sight: Kyle was waiting for the bus alone.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," said Kyle, when Kenny asked about Stan's absence. "He's probably sleeping in...you know." He punctuated his sentence with a shrug.

Kenny rotated his shoulders, stretching them. "Uh-huh..."He didn't say anything, but DUH Kyle obviously knew more than he was letting on. Because Kyle never trailed off like that and then shrugged – not unless he was avoiding something.

"Hmph," Eric grunted and yawned, pulling his oversized headphones off his ears to rest around his neck. "He probably just realized how gay he is and is hiding under his covers as we speak. Am I right?" He glanced over to Kyle with a bored smile. "Yes?"

"Suck an egg, Cartman," the redhead sighed. Eric smirked and pulled his headphones back over his ears, blasting Haydn.

"Puh," remarked Kenny.

On the bus, Ken took the opportunity (as always done in Stan's absence) to sit next to the Jew. He wiggled around until he was comfortable, chuckling at Kyle's distressed, polite smile.

"So did something happen last night?" The blonde sniffed, scratching his cheek gently and letting off a lazy yawn.

"You could say that." Kyle slumped down a bit, briefly wetting his top lip. Kenny paused and lifted an eyebrow, recalling the activity of the previous day.

"Stan's such a dumbass," Kenny grinned. "Such a damn jackass."

"Ken, uh...what are you talking about?"

"I dunno," the taller boy admitted. "I just get this feeling like he did something stupid last night and Prince Charming had to swoop in to save him."

"Prince Charming?" Kyle slowly sat himself back up.

Kenny only giggled.

Kyle continued: "Are you calling me gay, dude?" The bus ran over a pothole, and the vehicle jerked. "Unngh."

"Unngh," agreed Kenny at the same time, then he looked up at the roof of the bus. "I just might be." He blinked. "Why? You have a problem with that?"

"No." Kyle frowned, then bit his lip. "Actually, you're probably right about it, you know. It's just..." he cocked his head. "I've never _swooped_ in my life. And I don't plan on it."

Kenny nodded and elbowed him, accepting this answer.

--

"Isn't there any possible way I can buy one right now?"

"No."

"Don't you have any extras? Not even one? Is someone absent, can't I use that one?"

"I'm sorry, hun. We just can't do that. You can order one next year."

Kenny scowled, expressing his disapproval. Not that office lady really cared. She just went back to typing a million-words-per-minute about god-knows-what. Probably some pointless fundraising letter. Those were abundant at this time of year.

"Dammit!" The blonde boy cursed expressively. Valentine's Day! And he hadn't been dating Wendy long enough to have ordered her a flower-gram however many days ago. Thinking back a bit, he figured he probably should have just gone himself last night and bought a flower from the town vendor. D'oh.

"Hey – Hey!" He jogged along behind the black-haired girl when he spotted her in the hallway. She slowed down and smiled sidelong at him when he approached.

"Hello, Kens," she greeted sweetly, and he grinned, sensing playful undertones.

"My lady," he spoke, nodding princely. She swatted his shoulder.

"Freak...!"

"I try," Kenny laughed back.

They reached Wendy's locker, and she opened it with ease, shuffling books around as her boyfriend leaned against the lockers beside it, bouncing slightly. He puffed his cheeks out and then blew, puffed and blew, all the while watching the ceiling with wide, wakeful eyes.

"So, um." Wendy glanced at him nervously and lifted an eyebrow, huffing. "You're sorta...happy." She shut her locker, shooting him a quick smile. "Something great happen last night?"

"Just you," the blonde replid, all cheesy-like. Wendy's handsome blue eyes widened as she fathomed a response.

She giggled. "You're too sweet."

"Mm-hmm -" he blushed, and I decided this conversation was going nowhere, so I took off after Kyle. Good thing he'd just walked by.

" – and it was definitely a car, anyway – but I was like, DUDE! That's so way more like Jimmy than anyone - !"

Token (uh, wow...hey there, Token) laughed as Kyle gestured riotously to accompany his tale. Uhh, I wonder what it was about. Oh well.

"Stan's gonna kill you for saying that," the totally black boy remarked, dark eyes shining happily. Kyle shrugged,

"Only if you TELL him I told you, dude. Besides, I think it's kinda cute."

Token jump-kicked off a wall, trying to be impressive, and then frowned at the redhead once his shoes smacked back against the ground. "Cute?"

Kyle looked at him. "Yeah, you don't think so?"

Token looked back at the other boy in momentary amazement. Then, he grinned and punched Kyle's chest lightly. "Fuckin' _no_, but then again, I'm not nearly as gay for that kid as you are."

"Stan's gonna kill you for saying that," Kyle scorned Token's earlier words, scrunching up his nose in distaste. He then smiled in annoyance. "Whatever, bro. I know you dig it. Deep down in here." He pounded his own chest with a fist over his heart, frowning with mock-seriousness.

"Weirdo..." Token said, taking his seat next to Kyle in the Creative Writing room.

"Queer-do," Cartman corrected from the seat behind them.

"Man, it's like there's something WRONG with being gay." Kyle frowned.

"Well, there kinda _is_...," Token muttered uncomfortably.

Kyle sighed. "Harsh."

"So you really are a fag!" Cartman barked in wonder.

"Dude." Kyle slammed his fists onto his desk, almost joyously. "I swears I am'nt gay."

"Yeah you is, dawg," Token yelled back. He and Kyle often used bad grammar with one another in the CW classroom, for the fun of being stupid and driving their teacher nuts.

"L-O-L, guys," their very-annoyed teacher added dryly, thinking that this made him cool, or something. I dunno.

"Ain't not!" Kyle replied, ignoring the teacher's addition.

"Him is so a ho-mo-sexual!" Token said. He looked back at Cartman, mainly to annoy the brunet. "Aisn't he?"

"I think..." Cartman replied thoughtfully; "I think I may...have just...lost a good portion of my intelligence to your idiocy."

Kyle and Token snickered as the bell rang and Mr. Jones stood up to get the class started.

"You and Stan, though?" Token whispered, serious again. "For real?"

"Yeah, ...I think, anyway."

"Rock on," the black kid said, awed. "Gay pride."

Kyle's brows lifted slowly. "Something like that." Not really, T-dawg.

Noticing that Mr. Jones was giving them THE EYE, Token continued the conversation by writing it on paper. Since Kyle and he shared a two-person desk, it was easy to pass notes. All it required was a flick of the wrist, and off your note slid!

Kyle glanced down.

**So dude, if it's not too weird...I've been kinda feeling like, kinda like that, I guess. And I think maybe you'd be cool with this. Right? I've been dropping hints at Clyde for like a month, but **(something was scribbled out here)** I don't know if he's getting it. Could you like, talk to him for me? Se if he's got it or, whatever.**

The redhead smirked, and scribbled, and flicked the sheet back over. Token glanced up to make sure the teacher wasn't looking, then looked down again.

_YEAHHH._

And next to it was a crude drawing of a black stick figure with an afro and fairy wings, surrounded by lots of little hearts. And a smiley face under it, too, so that Token knew it was all in good humor.

Token sighed. "Harsh."

--

In the hallway, just right after being spun by a blonde and black blur, Kyle was addressed by Wendy.

"Kyle!"

He turned and looked at her, glancing back over his shoulder once as he approached the History room. "Was that Kenny?"

"Yep," she frowned. "I mean, I really, really like him, but he's sorta being..."

"Clingy?" Kyle smiled brightly. "I thought so. But he's never had a real girlfriend before, yeah? So he's probably gonna be like a middle schooler unless you tell him to lay off."

"I never seem to pick the manly ones," she groused. He quirked his mouth in interest.

"I am quite manly," he spoke suggestively. She huffed;

"Yeah, but you have Stanley."

His smile fell. "Oh, you think?"

"That cuts your manliness down by, like, fifty points." She smiled harder, to let him know she didn't have a problem with that whole gay-with-ex-boyfriend thing. Not like Bebe. This seemed to put him at ease, and he thought a moment about how she and he had suddenly switched places in regards to Stan.

"Don't be such a bitch, girlfriend," Kyle complained in a really seriously gay voice. "I'd cut it down only like forty-three. Forty-four at the most."

She slapped a hand over her mouth and groaned at his bad humor.

"By the way. Before I take off, I gotta ask you for something."

He nodded, voice returning to normal. "Sure, what?"

"Well – I know they're handing out the flowergrams for V-day at lunch today, and uh..." She smiled in embarrassment, "Well, I had ordered one for Stan, but now...well...you know. If you could like, just take that one right before they're handing them out – tell them he's absent and you'll give it to him after school, and then you can throw it out later or whatever."

"Ohh. Don't want Kenny to find about about your other man?" He smirked.

"You're a total dickface, Kyle, and thanks so much." And she was off, just in time for the bell to ring. Kyle huffed to himself, amused.

--

"I'm over you," said Red in Trig class. "I'm totally over you. It's okay that you're gay. I'm totally, totally okay with it."

"Totally cool," Kyle grunted with a smile. _Dude I'm not gay._

"I've got someone else now. I'm pretty sure he's so into me..."

"Uh-huh?" _Don't care, don't care, don't care._

"Yup."

"That's cool."

Pause.

"...Well, don't you wanna know who?"

_Not really._ "Sure."

Red smiled. "Token Black!"

Somewhere in Kyle's imagination, a little gay man committed suicide.

--

Kyle was in an awfully good mood by lunchtime. Even with Stan being out of school for the day, the redhead felt as if he was accomplishing a great deal today. Not that he really was, but you know.

"Ken-naaay! How are you?!" He yelled with much zeal. Kenny looked up from his turkey sandwich in utter surprise.

"Uhh...good," he replied, watching Kyle sit down across from him. He frowned, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Great, actually. And you seem to be doing fine."

Kyle laughed shortly. "Yeah, I guess I'm alright."

Kenny watched distractedly as the shorter boy bit into his huge-butt apple, then he blinked. "Huh?"

"I said I'm alright."

Kenny sipped on his juicebox thoughtfully. "Mmm – I see."

Silence fell upon them for a short time, and they ate their lunches in peace, though Kyle mourned the loss of a slushie to steal, and Kenny mourned the loss of fries to mooch. Poor Stanley really was a target for their friendly abuse.

"Dammit," Kenny sighed after a while, obviously fed up with whatever he'd been thinking about. Kyle looked at him patiently, glad that the silence had been broken. "I really wanted to get Wendy one of those flower thingies."

"Ohhh...wait, are they handing them out right now?" Kyle glanced around.

Kenny sighed once again. "Egh, yep. They're about to." He lifted his gaze to the now-standing redhead. "Where're you going?"

"I have to talk to one of them real quick," Kyle answered without looking back at the other boy. He started off toward the concentrated corner of Student Council, making his way towards the flower-bearers.

"Hey, Claire." He nodded to the blonde girl looking down papers behind the desk, and she glanced up at him.

"Hey, Kyle."

He smiled. "Stan Marsh isn't here today, and I was thinking I could deliver his flower by hand, after school. If you don't mind."

The pretty girl pursed her lips and shuffled through some more papers, until she had found what she was looking for. Muttering something, she bent back behind her chair to look at the mass of carnations with notes attached to them, numbered in some sort of order. She pulled out the one she was looking for and glanced at the note quickly.

"...For Stan Marsh, you said?"

"Yeah."

She smirked and lifted an eyebrow as she warily handed him the pink carnation.

"That's cute," she said. "I didn't know, Kyle."

He took the flower and glanced down at the note:

_I love you, Marshmallow. Hugs, kisses, and everything in between. (heart) Your one-and-only._

He snorted and beamed at Claire, not bothering to correct her in thinking he had written this ridiculous note.

"Well, now you do."

Ahaha! He laughed to himself, swiveling the flower in his hand. Marshmallow?? Wendy was such a flippin' dork!

--

Nobody really wanted to go near her, the girl standing there by her car. She looked positively fearsome, arms folded across her chest and sandal-ed foot a-tapping.

"Fuck!" She cursed to herself. "Fucking homo! He should have just gone to school in the first place!"

Of course, who next to approach her? None other than Eric Cartman.

"You look strangely familiar," he said, not intimidated by her affectation in the least. She turned to look at him, arms unfolding.

"Guh," she hissed menacingly. Eric merely smirked.

"Shelly?" He asked. She frowned;

"Who the hell are you?"

The brunet sucked in a long breath and began speaking theatrically. "Eric Theodore Cartman...pleased to make your acquaintance...yet again." His voice returned to normal as recognition strained her boyish features. "Now, what is this I hear about a school-ditching homo?"

She huffed. "Eric flipping Cartman. Great to see you."

He lifted his eyebrows boredly. "Oh, yes?"

"Not!"

He sent her a serene, insincere smile. "My apologies."

"You're still a fucking faggot, I see."

"My dear," he sighed. "In this day and age, who isn't a faggot?"

"Me."

He frowned. "Touché."

She glared at him. "Do you have any idea why my dumbass brother needs to be here right now? Like, he NEEDED to come to school..._after_ school. My parents fucking made me drive him."

"I haven't the slightest clue," he sighed, in that weirdly nasally voice of his. She stared at him for a moment.

"Why the hell are you talking like that?"

"I've done for the past few years...but beside that, I regret - "

She punched him in the ear, and he yelped.

"Devil!" He cursed. "Fuck you!"

"WHAT THE FUCK."

"Fucking asspig!" He deemed her. "What sort of woman acts like that?!"

"ME, you stupid shit. HAVE YOU SEEN STAN ANYWHERE."

"NO! And if I had, I wouldn't tell you, you freaking ho!"

Shelly kicked his shin once, then twice, wondering why she'd missed beating this kid up so much. It was pretty much like the only thing she'd missed about South Park, she realized.

She stopped and looked at him.

"Eh - ,"she shrugged, as a lame sort of peace offering. He peered up at her, straightening out.

"Whatever..."

Elsewhere (ha...haha...):

After the events of the night before, Stan had been highly reluctant to return to school. Thankfully, his mother was understanding (dumb) enough to let him stay home, on the excuse of him needing a 'day off.' Because it wasn't like there was such thing as a weekend, or anything. No.

He'd been planning on staying home and playing video games until bedtime, perhaps to organize his thoughts and formulate a plan to keep Kyle from never wanting to talk to him again. You know how it is.

But – then, when he'd been on his computer, he was expressly reminded (by the loads of old e-mails in the minimized history-project window) that he was supposed to be meeting TOD after school. That very day. By the second bench behind the main building.

His brain sped up with thoughts, all being somewhat along the lines of OH SHIT THAT'S RIGHT.

So he had begged and begged for Shelly to drive him to school, because he was supposed to be meeting TOD in like ten minutes and there was no way he'd be able to walk the distance in that time. Of course, she had refused.

However, after a nice chat over the phone with Sharon, Shelly was persuaded. For the second time today, thank god for his mom. Stan made a mental note to get her some really, really nice chocolates from 7-11 for Mother's Day.

Well, anyway. At present time, lost in thought, Stan Marsh was now at his designated location, chillin' out on the second bench behind the school.

It was chilly. He wished he had a jacket. Glancing around for any sign of his mysterious friend, Stan folded his arms and slid his hands up into the sleeves of their respectively opposite arms. He started rubbing at the gooseflesh on his arms, bending forward a bit. His t-shirt fluttered wildly when a strong wind blew past, and he looked up –

"Shit," he muttered, dark eyes widening when he noticed Kyle was walking down the sidewalk way on the other end of the school's back lawn.

"Shit," he said again, pulling his arms back down and standing abruptly, knowing for sure that he didn't need Kyle asking questions about Stan being gone, and why Stan had suddenly come to sit behind the school after school hours. Thinking quickly, the dark-haired boy ducked behind the bend and threw himself down on his stomach in the dry dirt. Haha, stupid.

But he must have made enough noise for Kyle to notice him, for notice him Kyle did. The redhead stopped in his tracks and turned, glancing over and obviously trying to figure out what the hell was going on over here.

"...Stan?" He asked innocently, walking off the walk and onto the lawn, coming to a stop just before the bench. He frowned. "Uh...Stan? That you...down there?"

Caught, Stan slowly lifted this head and sent Kyle a cheesy smile. "Um, hey, Kyle. What's up?"

"Not you, apparently." The shorter boy gave back a weird smile and scratched his head lightly. "So what are you doing here, exactly? I don't really picture you as the sneaky type."

"Oh," Stan replied dumbly, finally standing up and brushing some dirt and dust from his jeans. He shivered as another biting wind hit.

Kyle blinked hard. "No, but really. What are you doing here?"

"I'm – uh…" Stan narrowed his eyes and willed himself to breathe normally. "Well, I'm sorta meeting someone, so..."

"Meeting somebody! Well, cool. Who is it?"

Stan was noticeably paler than Kyle could remember him usually being, and the taller boy grunted. "Just a friend."

"Mm-hm..." Kyle made it obvious that he didn't believe him (he was just stringing Stan along.) "A really special friend? Are you going to declare your love to a very special someone, Stanley?" He clicked his tongue. "That _is _sweet. Can I stick around and watch?"

"What? No!"

"I promise I won't make any noise," Kyle whispered pleadingly. Stan just gave him a Look.

"Dude, please – I'll explain everything later, okay? But right now I really need you to leave."

"What's the big deal?"

"...Look, I ...this is really important."

Kyle frowned deeply. "Who could be more important than me?" He whined.

"Kyle..." Stan spoke nervously, glancing around for any sign of TOD. Clear so far.

"Come on, dude." Kyle sat down on the bench, and Stan reluctantly followed suit. "This mystery friend can't possibly be more useful than me. What does he know, anyway?"

"A lot, I guess," the taller boy grumbled, folding his arms and slumping down in his seat. Kyle sighed after a short pause.

"Like what?"

Stan glanced at Kyle, shifting a little in his seat. The redhead shot him a sympathetic look and set a hand on Stan's shoulder.

"Like what, dude? What does this friend know about my super-best-friend that I don't?"

Stan looked like he felt guilty. Kyle gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze, and the other boy fidgeted more.

"Um," he said.

Kyle smirked; "Are you nervous, Stan?"

Their eyes met and Stan leaned a little away. "What? No..."

"You lying?" Kyle leaned in, looking thoughtful. He gripped the shoulder harder, side of his leg brushing against Stan's. "I think you're lying, dude. You look pretty damn close to nervous."

"Kyle..."

"Are you afraid your friend is gonna show up and tell me something you don't want me to hear?"

"Kyle!" Stan jerked back, freaking out. "What's up with you, man?! No! I'm not afraid, I just wanted a little privacy! Okay? Is that too much to ask??"

"Not at all." Kyle sat back, giving his friend some room. "But at least tell me why you want me gone so bad."

The dark-haired boy toed the dirty harshly with his foot, slumping down again. "It's just that I was gonna meet something, and I don't think he'd appreciate it if...you know, I just like _brought _someone else along."

Kyle pursed his lips.

"You know what I think?"

Stan looked at him carefully. "Huh?"

"I think..." Kyle licked his mouth briefly. "I think you shouldn't quit."

He regarded the redhead quizzically. "Quit?"

Kyle shrugged and folded his arms over his chest, gazing heaven-ward. "Don't give up chess."

"What?"

"You're smart, dude. Smarter than you give yourself credit for." He looked at Stan and adjusted his glasses carefully. "You don't need to give up chess."

Stan frowned. "Yeahbut – " and then his body jerked lightly and his breath caught in his throat. "..."

Kyle watched him.

Stan blinked.

"...Kyle?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, dude?"

The black-haired boy wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and stared wide-eyed at the dirt.

"You...you're...TOD...aren't you."

Kyle said nothing. He put a hand on the taller boy's thigh and leaned his weight on it, breathing close to Stan's face.

"Do you get it now?" The redhead breathed, speaking halfway onto Stan's cheek. "Dude, you are - "

"I need to – go -!" Stan declared suddenly, face cherry-dark. He stood abruptly, knocking the other boy's hand off his thigh, and ran.

Quite quickly, I might add.

Kyle, standing slowly and watching Stan's retreating back, frowned and sighed.

"Man, you just don't get it." He sighed again, running a hand through his curly hair. "You're so dumb, Stan. But dude, I love you anyway."

He paused and pulled his hand out of his hair, staring at it in thought.

"...That sounded really gay," he decided.

"Oh, well," he decided further, and with that, took off after his retarded boyfriend-to-be.

--

Wait, was that Shelly and Cartman over there? Dammit, Kyle, slow down! I wanted to see what they were up to!

Dammit again! I don't want to miss it, but –

What the dickens??? I hate my job.

--

And whatever, but here I am again, somewhere entirely unrelated to what's probably about to happen in the central storyline.

Kenny and Wendy are currently exiting the school building, undoubtedly being ridiculously sweet on one another as they do.

"Yeah," said Ken. "Yeah, I dunno what's up. He seemed pretty down yesterday."

Wendy sighed, shuffling along to the bus pick-up. "It's probably about Kyle, but it's not like poor Kyle has done anything wrong..."

"Stan's just a dumbass like that," Kenny agreed. Wendy glanced at him and frowned.

Huh...guess they aren't. Well, give a kid a break! It's been a long day!

"He's not really dumb, he's just kind of out of it." Wendy climbed aboard the bus and Kenny followed at her heels, enjoying the view from behind. They sat together at the very front, where there was an empty seat, as always.

"Umm, so." Wendy smiled and slipped her hand into Kenny's. He squeezed. She sat up and turned her torso to glance back into the bus, searching around. "Kyle isn't here...?"

Kenny turned to look and say that she was right. "Huh."

"Aw." She frowned. "I wanted to ask him if he's heard from Stan at all."

Kenny's only response was to again squeeze her cool hand in his warm one. She smiled demurely.

"Don't worry," she said, quieter. "I only care about Stan like a brother." She leaned over and pecked his mouth, smoothing down his hair. "Can't help it"

"I know," he grinned, reciprocating the kiss. "And I never said anything."

"I know."

"..."

"You guys! You guys!"

Wendy and Kenny turned their heads to the person in the seat behind them. Clyde, still proudly donning his stupid arm-cast, was whispering at them urgently.

"What's up?" Kenny asked.

He leaned forward, full-cheeked face contorting into a terse frown.

"Look at this for a second."

Wendy snatched the note Clyde was waving in front of them, lifting a dark eyebrow at the pink stationary.

"This is from a flowergram, right?" She asked. He grunted 'yes.'

"Hmm." She read it. "Um...hehe. 'If I was a poetic person I'd tell you your smile is worth more to me than all the money I have. Since I'm not, I'll just say this: You mean more to me than you think.' ...Well, that's sweet."

But Clyde only frowned. "I think...I think it's from Token."

Wendy and Kenny both looked at him quickly. "What?"

"Token?" The blonde boy wondered.

Clyde nodded slowly. "Who else would talk about 'all their money' in a goddamn love poem?"

They considered this.

Clyde continued: "Seriously, guys. And who else has that stupid rich-kid handwriting?"

Both Kenny and Wendy huddled in to glance at the note again. The blonde nodded in understanding.

As Clyde wend on, a small smile snuck onto his face and his naturally deep voice was lined with fondness. "And...who would write such a bad poem...and so gay...and so cheesy..." His amused smile grew. "...But still pull it off kinda cute?"

Kenny smirked as Wendy offered the note back to Clyde.

"You like him too, huh?" Kenny asked slyly. Clyde contemplated this for a moment, then he shot them a chagrinned smirk.

"I guess I was hoping it was him," he admitted.

Kenny whistled. "Whoo."

"It does look a lot like his handwriting," Wendy shrugged.

Clyde stood abruptly, catching the attention of many of the kids sitting in the rows behind them.

"Attention!" He waved the note high above his head so everyone could see the pink blur. "I feel the same way!!"

"Dono's gonna get some tonight!" Some random kid cheered.

"Whoo hoo!" Another kid yeled out, sounding peeved. "Now sit the fuck down, you faggot!"

"UP YOURS!" Clyde cried out joyously, cheeks dark with exhilaration. He sat and immediately inspected Wendy's and Kenny's faces for their reactions. They looked pleasantly stupefied.

"Bold," Wendy said.

"Uh, yeah," Kenny agreed, bewildered. Clyde smirked and pocketed the pink slip of paper.

"No use_ not_ saying anything." He ran his long, thick fingers through his scalp. "If there's one thing I've always done for myself, it's to get problems out of my hair before they're too much to handle."

Get it? GET IT?? OW – damn pun police. Alright, I am done now.

Kenny and Wendy both smiled and turned back to face forward in their seats. So, they could be expecting Token and Clyde to be getting together soon – and knowing Clyde's social independence and Token's social...er..._persuasiveness_ ('hundred-dollar bills, anyone?') they wouldn't be bugged too much about it.

A comfortable Silence settled between them, and they sat quietly for a while, listening to the low rumble of the bus engine and the din of noisy students behind them.

Candy-blue eyes alight with unspoken thoughts, Kenny began muttering.

"Life is short."

She glanced at him in surprise. "Hm?"

He looked up, a smile in his eyes. "But this bus ride has been sooo long."

"I guess," she giggled, studying his face. The mid-afternoon sun was strong, staining Kenny's nicely-formed face with yellow, highlighting his eyelashes to a shine, and tinting his blue eyes green where it didn't reflect too strongly. Outside the windows, gold dust-clouds rose around their fast-moving bus. Her heart jumped a lazy, happy jump. "You alright, Ken?"

"Yeah," he declared. Then, louder: "Yeah!"

Surprised by her boyfriend's sudden zeal, Wendy poked his ankle with her toe, leaning into his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're okay."

He sighed happily and slumped down, getting comfortable again. "I am totally okay, Wends." He shut his eyes from the lethargic warm-gold light, to nap for the last stretch of the bus ride. "God, I'm so fuckin' _more_ than okay right now, you have no idea."

Shutting her eyes as well, Wendy smiled.

--

"Stan..." Kyle hummed quietly to himself, peering around. "Come out, Stan..."

GET IT? GET IT??? Haha no, but seriously, I'll stop now.

He frowned, grunting and staring ahead down the empty sidewalk. It was kind of chilly out, but duh, that was South Park for you and he was used to it. Rubbing his hands together and licking his mouth frequently in response to the dry wind, he trekked the rest of the short distance to the front of downtown.

Kyle sighed as he stopped. "Dude, where'd you go?"

Man, what was wrong with that friend of his, anyway? Did he totally forget that TOD was 'in love with his best friend,' too? Was Stan really in denial? Maybe Stan didn't want to be with him as much as he'd first thought.

But Kyle refused to be cynical. Even if he had no idea what this weird _romance_ was all about, he certainly did trust their friendship. It had lasted too long for him _not_ to.

Either way, this was going to be worked out. And it was going to be worked out NOW.

...As soon as found that damn best friend of his.

"STAN!" He called, the sharp, sudden noise echoing off in the mountain air. Kyle had always liked this about South Park: the clean air and the distance his voice could travel through it. "STAAAAAN."

"Stan1" He tried again.

Huffing in annoyance, he trudging along until he reached the park and the pond.

**STARK'S POND,** spoke the wooden sign tapping at his chamber door.

"Stark's...wha?" Kyle attempted to grasp reason. "...Nah," he argued with himself. "That would be way too predictable."

Quoth the sign, **STARK'S POND.**

"I'm not kidding," he continued. "If that's seriously where he is..."

Quoth the sign, **STARK'S POND.**

"..."

He gave in.

"Stan!" He groaned. "Man, if you aren't here...!"

But then he spotted just the head of black shag he'd been looking for, its owned sitting on the smooth rocks in front of the white afternoon lake.

Smiling in triumph, Kyle jogged over and plopped down on the rock next to the taller boy, wincing a bit at the contact and wrapping tight fingers around Stan's wrist to keep his startled friend from making another mad dash. Kyle wasn't up for that at the moment.

"Kyle!" Stan squeaked.

Kyle smirked. "Hello, Stanley," he spoke in a mock-dark voice. "I've been looking for you."

"Um," the other boy said, avoiding Kyle's gaze.

"Dude," Kyle laughed softly, kicking his legs out into the snowy dirt and staring at the pale sky. He carefully relinquished Stan's wrist and set his hands on the smooth surface behind him, leaning back. "Dude, what's wrong?"

"Um," said Stan again.

Kyle frowned. "Come on. We're best friends. And now you know we're confidants, too. What's the big deal? You know I'm not mad at you."

"Yeah..." Stan muttered, still staring at the ground. "I know." _What's a confidant?_ He wondered.

Kyle lifted his eyebrows and turned his head a bit, glancing at Stan. "You do?"

Stan shivered, frowning tersely and folding his arms to guard from the wind. The dynamic wind was whipping in from the direction of the lake in a low whistle.

"I guess. I don't know." He looked up and spoke again before Kyle could reply. "I'm sorry."

"Hm?" Kyle stared at him curiously. Stan, being so averse to eye contact as he was, fidgeted and did not return the look.

"I'm - ...sorry," he said, louder. "I'm sorry."

"Wait, wait!" Kyle paused shortly. "It's okay. Promise not to do it again?"

Stan did look at him this time. "Huh? Do _what_ again?"

Kyle laughed. "Exactly."

"...I don't get it."

The redhead frowned in thought and scratched his forehead lightly. "Ummm, I guess there's really nothing to get. You really didn't do anything wrong, dude."

"You're a great friend, dude," Stan muttered, dunking his face into his open palms. "I can't believe you're being so cool about this."

"Uh-huh," Kyle replied monotonously, reigned to the fact that logic seemed to be avoiding Stan completely.

Stan continued talking into his hands: "I mean, and the funny thing is…" he lifted his head, "I was staring to feel like I may be...like...I might like _TOD_ like that, and then I find out he's...he's you..." A small realization seemed to dawn on him, judging by the shifting of his expression. He turned a darker shade of face. "Aaahhh, I'm really sorry, I'm probably just weirding you out, Ky - "

Kyle, having been staring intently and inching closer all through Stan's talking, blinked rapidly and grunted.

"Do you remember," he started, "at Kenny's party? When Red called me that – Ky – and your drunk bum stumbled in and told her - " at this point, Kyle made an impressive face; "Don't call him that! Only I can call him Ky!" He paused. "Remember?"

Stan, embarrassed, shrugged a shoulder. "Not...Not really...did I say that?"

"Yup." Kyle leaned even closer.

"..."

"But y'know, I actually didn't mind it."

"Oh..."

Green-gray-browns narrowed slightly. "Actually, actually, actually...I kinda like it."

"You like it." Stan repeated, glancing at him dubiously.

"Yeah, it's fun when you get all possessive like that..." Kyle smiled sweetly. "You're so bad at it."

"Shit, dude – I'm sorry about that," Stan apologized again, terribly ashamed at this alleged behavior of his. No more parties for me! He chided inwardly.

"Sorry that you're bad at being possessive?" Kyle pursed his lips in surprise.

"Well no - "

"Hey," the shorter boy interrupted. "But I think it's, like, cute!"

Stan fidgeted a lot. "Okay, Kyle. You don't have to try to make me feel better."

"I'm not," he frowned.

"Seriously, stop." Kyle had leaned in very close at this point. Stan gently shoved him back.

"Guh," said Kyle, galled by Stan's total stupidity.

"Guh!" This louder guh managed to get the dark-haired boy's attention.

"What?!" He sighed, exasperated.

Kyle watched as Stan stood up, and he did as well. "Man you are stupid!"

"Am not!" Stan paused. "Okay maybe a little, but that's besides the point."

Kyle had to fight to keep from laughing. Even as frustrating as it was, Stan kind of made everything funny. In a depressing sort of way, but still.

"You aren't _stupid,_" Kyle corrected softly. "Just really, really oblivious. You need to get your head out of your ass, dude..."

Stan was getting angrier. "My head is NOT - " He grunted, stopping. "God, what's your problem?? I'm real sorry I'm soooooo gay for you, Kyle, but you seriously need to stop insulting me!"

Kyle threw his hands up in shock. "You are totally missing the point!"

"Then explain!"

Kyle ground his heels into the dirt. "Dude. Do I need to FEDEX it to you or something?!"

"Yeah, maybe!" Stan hissed, looking hurt. "But since I'm so OBLIVIOUS, I probably won't get it because I'm at the wrong house!"

Kyle blinked; "...What?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither, dude." He frowned. The anger just kind of dissipated after that.

"Look," Kyle sighed. "It's been fun playing around but I really think we need to get things straight" (snort) Ah- ha, sorry, sorry. Carry on - "...here." Kyle paused and looked around, confused. "Uh, anyway. So it looks like I'm going to have to spell this out for you."

"Please do," Stan said grumpily.

Kyle looked at him. "Letter for letter."

"Go ahead," the dark-haired boy challenged.

"Okay...Stan. Dude." Kyle took a few steps over and gently grasped the boy's shirt collar. Their eyes met. "I...want...you."

"Hmph," Stan said.

Kyle looked away for a moment, then he looked back. "I think I, uh, love you, dude."

"...?" Stan frowned.

At this, Kyle gasped noisily and throttled Stan by his collar, shaking him up good.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" He barked. "STAN MARSH, I AM GAY FOR YOU!!!"

"Holy shit, dude!" Stan yelped, jaw falling open and then closing again. "That's right – that e-mail!"

Kyle let go of Stan's shirt and facepalmed.

"I really hate you," he whined, and Stan frowned. Hearing no response, Kyle removed his hand from his face and lifted an eyebrow at his super-best-retard.

"But I really love you," he added.

"Really? Really, dude? Not like you love Ike, right?"

"Stan, I assure you. I love you in the most homosexual way possible." Ugh. He wanted to shoot himself after saying that, but whatever.

"OMG," said Stan. Kyle gawked at him.

"Did you just say OMG?"

"No..." Kyle looked at him hard. "...okay yeah. Sorry!"

"Dude, you're such a freak..." the redhead smiled. "Don't apologize for it, though. Be proud of your freakiness. Embrace it."

Stan smirked oddly and embraced Kyle instead. Kyle half-snorted.

"So now that I seem to have gotten the point across," he muttered into Stan's shoulder, "can we have our really romantic and fantastically gay first real-kiss now?"

Stan pulled back a bit. "What's th...wha?"

Kyle looked at him. "Sorry, I've just been really way more than patient with you up 'til now and I feel like I deserve a reward or something." He puckered his lips lamely, then snickered. Stan just looked embarrassed.

"Um, actually..."

Kyle's smile fell. "Uh oh. What?"

"Well, it's just that, uh..." Stan seemed unable to meet Kyle's eyes. "I've kinda...never done this before, and..."

"Never kissed anyone?" Kyle asked with doubt. He was pretty sure he'd seen Stan and Wendy kiss, plenty of times.

"No." Stan glanced at him, puzzled. "Never kisses a...dude."

Kyle pursed his lips again and nodded in understanding. "It's prolly not any different from kissing a girl," he said, then smirked a bit; "except that you're the girl this time."

Kyle leaned up and carefully brushed his lips over Stan's, but Stan pulled back yet again.

"Waitum...Kyle..."

Kyle sighed.

"You want me to be the girl, huh?" he muttered against Stan's lips. He felt the taller boy swallow.

"Uh, yes...please." Stan said in a small voice.

Kyle chuckled and grunted his consent, and Stan's mouth firmly moved to place.

They didn't move.

"Hmm," Kyle hummed thoughtfully. "Ssnice, eh?"

"Yuh," Stan frowned. Why did they suck so bad at kissing?

Kyle pulled away for a sec. "That blew," he giggled. Stan shrugged, and, encouraged by the fact that Kyle wasn't grossed out and running away screaming yet, boldly caught his mouth again. The redhead grinned in amusement and, hamming it up, threw his arms around Stan's neck and bent his waist forward.

"Dude," Stan laughed between many of the short pecks Kyle was smothering his face with.

"Dude," replied Kyle, letting their lips connect again. "Mmf."

"This-!" he was stopped by a peck; "this is - " smooch, " – so - " peck, " – gayOWWW!" ...bite. "What the hell, Ky?"

Kyle smirked. "Sorry, couldn't help it. You taste good. Just like my last gay lover."

"...What?!"

Kyle yanked him down by his dark hair and whispered in his ear:

"JK, dude."

Stan smirked.

"You can bite me all you want, then," he declared. "As long as there's no more internet speak."

"You mean..." Kyle's eyes rounded comically. "I don't get to love Mr. E? I'm stuck with boring old Stanley?"

"Stan," Stan corrected. "And hey, we all have to give up some things. I'll never get to e-mail TOD again, y'know."

"I'm sure he'll always be on your mind, though."

Stan nodded.

"And in your dreams."

"Oh, of course," the dark-haired boy smiled lamely back.

"And in your pants," Kyle added.

Stan's face turned darker than Kyle had ever seen it.

"Whoa!" Kyle declared, impressed by this feat.

"Let's keep TOD away from my pants for a while! Please!" Stan shrilled.

"I can dig," Kyle nodded and smiled again. He and Stan separated then, however, seeming to notice that the time, place, and weather were all much too inconvenient for them to continue their little scene for much longer. Besides, Stan was still totally going to need more time to get used to this whole kissing-guys thing.

But it wouldn't be for long, knowing them.

--

And so, in conclusion –

HEY!

Th-that black-haired jackbutt just _flipped me off!!_ Did you just flip me off?!

"No."

Are you lying to me?! AHH, you did it again!

"No..."

You can't lie to the freaking _author!_ That's so against the rules! I see all!!

"Clearly," says Cartman.

Excuse you. I could totally have made you into a total fag with Kenny if I wanted, so you'd best be thankful and watch what you say around me.

"You have no authoritah over me!" he says, and I am left to wonder why he only has an accent in the opening and closing sequences of this tale. Tut me, for shame. For SHAME.

"If it makes you feel any better - !" Stan interrupts, cutely. "Well – I appreciate your work!"

Aw! How sweet!

"Don't empower her!" Kyle scolds his boyfriend. "She did some pretty shitty stuff to you, dude – I mean, come on – green apple shampoo??"

"Oh," Stan pouts in thought. "True."

"And your sister, she did that thing with your sister."

"That's right!"

"And she also made you pretty stupid!"

"Hey..." Stan frowns.

Kyle continues: "And! She made you choke on that fry, remember?"

MAN KYLE WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM. THAT WAS FUNNY.

Stan looks greatly offended at this point. "Man!" He yells at me. "You are kinda a douche!"

I AM THIS CLOSE TO MAKING KYLE FALL IN LOVE WITH RED YOU ASSHOLES. I'LL DO IT. DON'T TRY ME.

"Oh, Kyle! Save me!" Squeals Stan in a moment of utter homosexuality which I totally forced upon his character, just because I flippin' CAN and don't deny it, you guys.

"Ugh!" declares Kyle.

So are you telling me you don't need me anymore? You just use me to get together and then toss me aside – this is the thanks I get for all my hard work and effort, huh?? Well – fine! So what if all good stories tend to end with a conclusion? Obviously this was all bollocks anyways – I've just been played by a bunch of manipulative asshole characters that just used me for their own gain! I hate you guys! I hate you guys so much!

Screw you stupid characters! I'm going home.

"What a faggot," thinks Cartman, shrouded with stinky irony.

"I loooove Wendy," Kenny asserts, to which Wendy replies:

"Aw, sweetie."

"I-I wish I had been mentioned at al up until this point," Butters says, appearing out of the Land of Unimportance, undoubtedly having found his way here through one of the tunnels Christophe had been digging over in Whereverville. Sorry 'bout that, Mole.

"Zough you are not nearly so bad az zis God of yours," he forgives, brandishing his shovel toward the heavens.

"Who are you?" Red wonders at him intrigued by the Frenchman's vaguely phallic instrument. "You're not gay, are you?"

Dude. _Frenchman. __**Phallic instrument**_ Totally take a hint, okay?

"I'm not gay - !" Lies Randy out of the blue, but who really cares about Randy?

"You're one freak of a writer!" Is Bebe's input.

"And a fag," reminds Cartman. Bebe and Cartman, perhaps sensing the beginning of a hateful friendship, share a smart look. Stan and Kyle continue to be totally straight homos, probably to spite me. Token and Clyde are in Token's super cool gameroom, knocking balls (by this I mean billiards. What did you think I meant? Aw, regardless – it'll get steamy soon. Probably.)

And I'm telling you, Craig did flip me off but goddammit he won't own up to it. You flipped me off, you asshole.

"No."

Bugger – he did it again!

Well! You wanna know what I have to say after all this - ?

"NO!" The entire cast does declare, all agreeing on something for the first time.

Ah. Well.

Touché, my objectionable little friends.

Tou-flippin-ché.

**-END-**

OMG I DID IT!

REVVVVIEEEWWWWWWW!! XD

as a side note, I have a new chaptered KS fic in mind. It would uhh, involve a delinquent Stan, a friendly Kyle, a Kenny who cross-dresses at night (cough yes.)


End file.
